Devil in Me
by EmilyRose09
Summary: "She had eyes as black as sin, filled with lust." In one fated moment she became his addiction—one that he refused to give up even when she was begging him to.
1. Sex on Fire

**Disclaimer: Never mine! **

**A/N: So I deleted my other Brucas story because I pretty much hated it. I thought it was boring and unoriginal. This will hopefully be better. It's totally AU and not PG, kids. So if you're not old or mature enough, stay away. Everyone else, Review and Enjoy! Lemme know if it's worth continuing. :) **

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Chapter 1: Sex on Fire

"Fuck this shit," Lucas muttered under his breath, glowering down at every other nearby clubgoer.

His life sucked. That much was crystal freaking clear now. So tonight he only had two things in mind: get passed-out drunk_ and _fuck the hottest chick in the room.

He'd start with the first one for now. He leaned across the bar counter, ignoring any stickiness he felt that couldn't be accounted for. This was a New York City club after all. It hardly guaranteed a cleanly and sterile environment.

"Tequila," he yelled gruffly at the bartender over the annoyingly loud dance music. "Shots." He held up his hand to show how many he wanted.

He knew he was being a pussy ordering that. It'd been what he'd drank all through high school. Now that he was a big shot New York writer he should've been more sophisticated.

A bourbon-filled Bulleit Neat. A vodka-filled Kamikaze. Something masculine and brawny that told the world who was boss. _Well fuck it,_ Lucas thought to himself for the millionth time. _Fuck Everyone. _

He was just fired by the most reputable publishing house in the city and got evicted from his lavish uptown apartment all in the same fucking day. He needed something to take the edge off—something to make him forget it all. The only things that came to mind were booze and women.

"Here ya are," the bartender shouted back, shoving four shots of expensive tequila at Lucas.

Lucas took them eagerly, throwing back a couple hundreds to him. "Keep the change."

He made his way over to an impossibly small table to the side of the club. The place was packed and he narrowly avoided dumping alcohol down someone's dress. A couple of times he'd been tempted to do it on purpose just to make someone else as pissed-off as he was.

He never did anything like this—party alone in a dirty club. He'd been the good guy all through his adolescence. Dads had practically lined their daughters up for him to date he'd been so chivalrous.

He eyed multiple bodies around the room. Men and women were dancing together to a low erotic beat. Women had their arms wrapped around the necks of men that were more than likely strangers. These same men had their arms wrapped around the girls' waists, pulling them close, forcing them to grind against their junk. Sweat ran from body to body in a hot, tangled mess.

Chivalry was clearly dead here.

But still, Lucas longed to be a part of the crowd now. If his life was shot to hell already, then he'd at least make the most of it.

He quickly picked up his first tequila shot, shooting it back swiftly and surely. The alcohol fizzled within him, stinging on the way down and making him feel more alive than ever. He downed another right after.

"Careful there, Broody," a sultry and impossibly husky voice whispered into his ear. "I hear it can go to your head."

Hands snaked around his broad shoulders until the most stunningly attractive woman he'd ever seen came into view. She had pale porcelain skin that Lucas immediately wanted to caress. Her hair was dark and long. He imagined tangling up his own hands in it as he kissed her bright ruby red lips. She also had a beauty mark on her right cheek that made her even more beautiful _if that were possible. _

His lips curved upward. He hadn't even needed to search for the hottest chick. She'd clearly come right to him like a moth to a flame.

"I'm Lucas," he told her in a loud but gentle voice, working to play it cool. "And you are?"

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "Does it matter?" she demanded, pulling at his shirt collar.

She clearly meant business.

"No introductions?" Lucas questioned. "No idle chitchat? No buying you a drink first?"

They both knew what they were about to go do; one-night stands always started the same.

She shook her head in response, eyeing his two unfinished shots. "You're wasting it," she informed him matter-of-factly.

Lucas smirked. "Still get the same buzz."

She sighed, turning to another table close by and snatching a salt shaker and a plate of lime wedges. "Do it right," she requested, licking the back of her hand below her index finger and pouring the salt onto it. "Lick," she ordered, offering her hand to him.

He followed hesitantly, licking her hand before downing his third shot. She quickly handed him the lime wedge and he bit into it to balance the flavor. This was really turning him on. He'd never had a girl be so gung ho with him before. They quickly repeated the steps for his fourth and final shot.

"You're right," he said, cringing slightly. "Your way is much better."

She smiled in a way that suggested she knew that all along. "You live close by?"

He shook his head, smiling at the irony that he actually did live close by until recently being thrown out. He hadn't really thought about it before, but he didn't actually have anywhere to stay anymore. He had no home to go to.

"What about you?" he countered, eyeing the way her tight red dress hugged each curvature of her perfect body.

"Oh, I do," she said, eyes narrowing. "Not that it matters. I don't bring randoms back to it. Talk about potential murder victim."

Lucas rolled his eyes. This chick he still didn't know the name of was willing to go back to a stranger's apartment but not her own. Her logic seemed seriously flawed.

"What do you suggest then?" he inquired rather desperately. He _really _needed a good lay.

She twirled around in a circle that Lucas subconsciously realized was in tune to the background music. It made her even hotter in his eyes.

When she finally turned back to him he became entranced. She had eyes as black as sin, filled with lust. She seemed like a demon and an angel to Lucas all at the same time. He wasn't quite sure which side was more tempting.

"Bathroom," she suggested, nodding her chin toward the corner of the club.

Lucas eyed it in shock before turning back to her. "You're serious."

Her lips parted as she took a deep, sensual breath. "Does it look like I'm joking?"

She was definitely more of a demon, and it was definitely more than tempting for him. "Lead the way."

She grabbed his hand, pulling him along right behind her as she twisted her way through the hot crowd of bodies to the bathroom.

"Get lost," she ordered the two women that had been waiting in line. They less-than-happily complied.

Luke smiled at her constant forwardness. He was coming to expect it of her, but he still really had no idea how this was going to go down. He'd never done it in public before.

The mysterious woman pulled him into the single-stall bathroom, locking the door behind them.

"We have a good ten...maybe fifteen minutes before security gets here," she told him in her always raspy voice. "Do your worst."

He grabbed her immediately, pushing her against the door, locking her in place against him.

Her eyes lit up with a fierce passion as he began kissing her neck to her jawline. She began moaning as he nibbled gently in the right spot.

Luke saw an opening to take advantage of this woman like he never had another.

"Wrap your legs around me," he ordered, sounding nothing like himself. He never got bossy in bed. _What the fuck was happening? _

She just smiled back at him, obeying instantly, sliding her legs tightly around his strong waist. "You want me to take off my dress?" she asked him teasingly. "Or would you prefer to do that yourself?"

A low, guttural noise sounded in the back of his throat. He held her carefully as he moved away from the door and set her down on the still damp sink. He quickly pulled up her dress without reluctance for once, tossing it to the ground beside them.

She was even more stunning to him now, showing more of her porcelain white skin. She had on skimpy lingerie underneath that seemed very fitting to her personality. He slowly massaged over her shoulders, lowering his hands to her stomach before landing on her hips. He brought her closer to the edge of the sink.

"You sure you want me to do that?" he asked, referring to her demands that he do his worst.

She nodded mutely, clearly surprised by his sudden ability to keep up sexually.

His smile widened as he tugged off his pants, kicking them aside. His boxers were next, as were her barely-there panties. He quickly rolled on a condom.

"You sure about this?" he asked again. Chivalry was _pretty much _dead.

She nodded again, smiling slightly condescendingly at him.

That ticked him off. He hated feeling inferior to a woman. He quickly pressed against her, working to turn her on just as much as he was before thrusting slowly into her. He pulled out again, watching her reaction. She groaned audibly, eyes fluttering back.

That was all the approval and permission he needed. He thrust back up into her, letting her press her hands behind her arched body to give her better support as their bodies rocked together.

He pounded against her harder and faster each time, building on their momentum. They both were panting heavily as they reached their incomparable climaxes.

When it was over Brooke shakily hopped back down to the floor in search of her clothes. Lucas handed them to her mechanically, barely able to keep himself on his feet after that earth-shattering experience.

Brooke quickly slipped back into her dress, pulling on her panties again. Luke followed suit, pulling his boxers and pants back on.

"That was..." she started, flushing brightly. "Nice," she supplied at last.

Lucas chuckled. "Glad it was satisfactory."

A sudden loud and obnoxious pounding started at the bathroom door. Lucas watched with wide eyes as she opened it up to reveal two burly security guards that were waiting outside, looking seriously ticked-off.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she started up, sounding unbelievably innocent. "Were we causing a disturbance?"

Luke couldn't help but laugh at that. He was shut up by the stern looks both guards gave him. Their message was clear: shut the fuck up.

Luke slapped his wrists together. "We'll go quietly," he told them, winking to her out of the corner of his eye.

The guards forced both of them out of the bathroom, apparently fed up with having to wait. Lucas was quickly forced through the crowd roughly until they hit the exit and he was thrown out on his ass.

_Fucking worth it_, he thought to himself, getting even more turned on as he watched the beautiful brunette get thrown out right behind him.

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**A/N: Review! Or else this will be a oneshot! **


	2. Dedication

**Disclaimer: Not mine! **

**A/N: Wow. Thanks so much for your reviews. It did make me want to continue this. For how long? That's still undetermined. I loved that you guys liked bad boy Lucas. I do too. :) REVIEW! **

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Chapter 2: Dedication

"You gonna tell me your name now?" Lucas demanded as he leaned against the outside wall of the club.

The gorgeous brunette sneered at him, rolling an unlit cigarette between her fingers. "Where's the fun in that?"

Lucas eyed her up and down, taking in her impressive assets.

Her eyes were still sparkling despite the cold New York air. They hinted at a wild nature—a secret past. Lucas was determined to uncover exactly what. He eyed her dress again, noting with satisfaction the multiple creases within the silky red fabric. He finally settled in on her hair, which had the distinct crazy after-sex wave to it.

_I did that to her, _he thought to himself cockily. _I'm so fucking awesome. _

"You should tell me your name," he told her again, feigning arrogance. It must've been the tequila that made him so aggressive and confident. "What if you want round two?" His eyes lit up suggestively.

She shrugged uncaringly. "I seriously doubt that will happen." Her eyes wandered to his, appearing bored and impassive.

Not exactly the reaction a guy wanted right after sex.

"I'm strictly a hit-it-and-quit-it-type girl," she informed him easily, pulling a lighter out from her purse. "No strings attached. No numbers exchanged. No _names_," she emphasized, lighting her cigarette.

Luke gazed at her disappointedly. He'd really hoped she'd be up for round two. "You could always change your mind," he argued pointlessly. "Break your rules. I tend to make quite the impression in bed."

She raised an eyebrow, taking a drag before releasing the smoke around them. "Really?" She sounded skeptical.

Lucas' temper boiled in anger at that. He clenched his fists angrily. _Who the fuck did this girl think she was?_ Plenty of women had expressed interest in him over his lifetime. _Why was she so fucking resistant to his charms? _

He towered over her, allowing his light blue eyes to bore into her dark hazel ones. "You telling me I didn't just rock your world?" He grasped her lip between his fingers, immensely enjoying the gasp that escaped her perfect lips. "I think you're lying, angel. But I'm more than willing to do it again to prove you wrong." He began moving his lips to hers.

She pulled away suddenly, forcing his lips to hit her cheek instead. He stifled a groan of annoyance as she backed even further away.

"Rule of thumb, Lucas: Don't be too eager." She took another drag, staring unseeingly down the sidewalk.

Lucas set his jaw. "This coming from the woman that picked me up in a club not twenty minutes ago? If that's not eager, then I don't know what is. It's even a little desperate."

Her eyes flitted back to his, narrowing. "It's not," she countered instantly. "I can just tell a lost horny soul when I see one."

Lucas smirked. "Yourself included?"

She chuckled quietly to herself, tossing her cig to the ground and rubbing it out with her shoe. "I don't have to explain my reasoning to you. You're just a stranger after all."

Lucas stepped closer to her again. "Let's change that."

She stepped back mechanically, shaking her head. "Let's not," she challenged. "This was a good time, Lucas. I'll give you that. You're not a total mess to hook up with."

Lucas grimaced. "Thanks," he added, completely sarcastic.

"But let's just leave it at that." She bit her lip, watching as his expression evolved from hope to devastation. She just had that effect on people, specifically men. "But don't give up," she tacked on like it were a rehearsed speech. "I'm sure you'll find the girl of your dreams right around the corner. It's just not me."

_Wanna bet? _Lucas nearly asked out loud before remembering to keep his pride and manhood intact.

She started walking backward, eyes still locked on his. "Have a nice life, Lucas," she called out as she was nearing the main street. She whistled loudly and placed her hand in the air to gain the attention of a taxi. It didn't take long before one had stopped and she was lowering herself into it. Before she closed the door she called out to him one last time, "My name's Brooke."

She gave him a quick wink, and with that, she was gone.

* * *

Lucas groaned audibly as he pressed the intercom of a fancy Manhattan apartment building. This was by far his last resort for a temporary home, but he hadn't had much of a choice.

After wandering the city aimlessly for hours after Brooke had kicked him to the curb he'd realized that he needed a place to sleep. Preferably a place that didn't cost a fucking fortune since without a job he'd quickly run out of cash.

_Brooke. _The name seemed to have permanently infused itself in his mind. She was all he could think about. Her sexy voice. Her creamy skin. Her hot-and-cold attitude.

He was craving her already, even though she'd made it perfectly clear that she never wanted to see him again.

"Who the fuck is this?" a drowsy, masculine voice demanded from the intercom.

Lucas groaned again. Clay Evans. He'd never liked the guy, regardless of the fact that he was his brother's best friend. To Lucas he was just a pathetic, partying playboy that couldn't keep it in his pants for more than five minutes.

"It's Luke," he said back, sighing at his own misfortune. "Luke Scott."

"Nate's big brother?" Clay questioned, sounding hungover.

Lucas smiled to himself. "The one and only." He heard shuffling on the line.

"What are you doing here, man?" Clay asked a moment later.

Lucas rubbed his forehead, desperately wanting to just go to bed and deal with his problems the next day. "I'm sorta in a jam. I was hoping to crash here tonight." He didn't bother adding that he'd need more than just one night to figure everything out. "Nate told me to look you up if I ever needed a place to stay."

"Of course he did," Clay grumbled unhappily. "Hold on a sec."

Lucas rolled his eyes. Like he really had a choice. He waited impatiently as Clay made his way to the building's entrance. Clay pulled the door open from the inside and locked his arm in front of Luke before he could go in.

"What's going on, man?" Clay asked. "I know you wouldn't be here if you had a choice."

Luke sighed again. He really didn't like the guy standing across from him, but who else could he bitch about his life to?

"I got fired," Luke started angrily. "And evicted. And I think I met the future Mrs. Lucas Scott. She already hates me and told me to get lost."

"Oh, shit," Clay mumbled involuntarily, scratching the gruff on his chin. "You are one sad mother fucker," he declared unabashedly.

"You got that right," Lucas agreed. "Now you gonna let me in or what?"

* * *

**One Month Later: **

"You're sure?" Lucas asked into the mouthpiece of his cell phone. "You weren't there one month ago?"

The resounding no answered on the other line.

"Alright," Luke went on. "Thank you for your time." He clicked the end button and the screen of his phone cleared.

He snatched up the black sharpie on the desk in front of him and roughly scratched out yet another name on his list of people. This was becoming a habit; he called strangers and they disappointed him with their answers.

"Seriously, dude?" Clay's unmistakable voice filled the room. "You're calling again? I thought I told you to grow some balls and fuck someone else already." He was leaning against the doorframe, dressed in khakis and a green tee. "There's a game on tonight. I figured we'd invite some ladies I know from—"

"No," Lucas cut him off sharply. "I need to find_ her_."

Clay exhaled, annoyed. "What even was her name again?"

Luke gave him a look. "Brooke. And don't act like its some big thing. I just want to see her again."

Clay's eyes widened. "See her again? Fine. But you're officially obsessed. You've called every single Brooke within three hundred square miles. That's dedication if I've ever seen it."

"Well, she said she lived close by," Luke explained, turning back to his list of various Brooke's and their numbers. "Who would've thought there'd be so many women with her name?"

"Yeah. In the most densely-populated place in this country," Clay tacked on, moving into the room and glancing at the sheet. "Still no luck finding Mrs. Right?" His tone was cruel.

"You're an ass," Luke announced, standing back up and walking toward the door, hoping that Clay would follow.

Clay grinned at him. "An ass that's been letting you crash with him for a month now. How has my guest room been for you, Scottie?"

"What do you want then?" Luke demanded, genuinely feeling grateful but refusing to show it. "A thank-you card?"

Clay's smiled reached his eyes. "Yes. That's exactly what I want."

Luke just narrowed his eyes before walking out of the room. He wandered into Clay's living room, slumping down on a black La-Z-Boy. "This is the ultimate bachelor pad," he noted out loud, eyeing the plasma screen TV and scarce decorations.

"I like it," Clay responded, sitting down across from him on his leather couch. He snatched his remote and turned on his TV. "Game is still on for tonight. Get lost or man up." He went into the kitchen and poured himself a drink.

Luke ignored him, watching a random channel on the TV. It was some entertainment news station. He groaned, grabbing the remote and planning to find something else to watch when a certain familiar brunette came on. She was wearing a tight low-cut black dress and discussing some upcoming trip with the interviewer.

"What the fuck?" he shouted, jumping up from his seat. "Who the fuck is that?" He pointed at the screen.

"Who?" Clay glanced at the TV as he came back into the room. "Oh, Brooke Davis? She's the owner of some major international clothing line." He noticed Luke's expression. It was a combination of surprise and elation. "Wait. No effing way. She's your mystery hook up? You fucked _Brooke Davis_?"

Luke's smile grew. "Damn right I did."

Clay just shook his head. "I take back what I said when you first got here. You are one _lucky _mother fucker."

* * *

Lucas Scott was dressed in the most expensive suit from Clay Evan's closet. Armani. Pure black. His tie was skinny but classic. His hair was gelled up. His facial hair was scruffy, but according to Clay, that was a style now.

He looked good. Damn good even. But it didn't matter if he didn't find a certain unattainable someone.

He was sitting in the waiting room of _Clothes Over Bros_, impatiently waiting for the secretary to call him up. She'd first told him to take a seat when he'd asked to see the infamous CEO, and in his two and a half hours of waiting, she hadn't so much as glanced in his direction.

He was beginning to think she'd forgot about him, or was just purposefully ignoring him. Either way didn't bode well for him.

He decided to take Clay's advice for once. Man up. He got up and walked back over to her desk.

"Thank you for calling _Clothes Over Bros. _Please hold. Thank you for calling _Clothes Over Bros. _Please hold," the perky secretary's voice spoke into her headset. "Thank you for calling _Clothes Over Bros_. Please—" She took a short pause and hit the intercom button. "Ms. Davis, I have Zac on line three for you."

"Excuse me," Lucas interrupted, earning an annoyed look from her. "Brooke Davis is here then—in the building? Can I see her?"

She eyed him distastefully. "_Ms. _Davis is far too busy at the moment. Why don't you try calling—"

"Yes, because I can see how well that's worked for most people." He nodded toward the phone system that had multiple lights flickering, indicating a plethora of people still on hold. "I need to see her _now_. It's important."

She smiled uncaringly. "It always is, but I'm afraid it's not going to happen."

He glanced around at the various offices around him until he found the one he wanted. The name Brooke Davis was written in big block letters. He decided to take a chance, to hell with the consequences. He walked purposefully to her door, and not bothering to knock, he let himself in.

"I know. I agree. Next season I want to—" Brooke's sultry voice suddenly broke off when she locked eyes with Lucas. "What the hell?" she practically yelled at him. "No. Not you, Zac," she spoke into her phone. "Never mind. Can I call you back? Great. Thanks." She hung up the phone, turning back to Lucas. "Don't tell me." She held up her hand, amusement obvious on her face. "You're pregnant."

"You're hilarious," Lucas shot back, sitting down across from her.

"And you're persistent," Brooke countered. "I had to have my secretary tell you to fuck-off twice."

"You knew I was looking for you?" Lucas demanded angrily, hands gripping the edges of her desk.

"Of course," she answered coolly. "I make it my business to know whose stalking me."

"Don't flatter yourself." Lucas eyed her revealing blouse. She was in her work attire and still looked completely fuckable.

"What else would you call your constant attempts to find me?" she inquired.

"Dedication," he provided with a shrug.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself." She smiled self-importantly at him.

He hated it. Her lips looked so soft, so inviting. It was like she continually teased him without even trying.

"You up for round two yet?" he asked, eyes alight with wonder. He knew the different ways this could go. She could tell him to fuck-off for a third time. She could call security. She could get a restraining order. Or...

"Lock the door," she ordered as her way of answer. "And wipe that damn smirk off your face."

He obeyed both requests immediately. _About fucking time_, he thought to himself, smirking on the inside.

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**A/N: Thoughts on Clay in the story? I seriously love the idea of him and Luke as roommates, but I want to know what you guys think. Bad boy Lucas Scott will be more prevalent in the rest of the story. He just had to find her again. ;) REVIEW! Weigh in on what you'd like to see—or who. **


	3. Mr Rager

**Disclaimer: Does not belong to me! **

**A/N: Thanks again for the reviews! Keep it up and I'll try to update quickly. ;) Anyway, a lot of you guys raised some good points last chapter. One said that Luke was acting like a stalker and another said he was acting desperate. Completely agree. This story is about his addiction to her, even when it's unhealthy. So essentially Brooke already is a bad girl and Lucas is sort of evolving into a bad boy. You've seen glimpses, but that's not really who he was until he met Brooke. He's going to continue down this road with her and then you'll see where he ends up. It won't always be pretty. ;) **

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Chapter 3: Mr. Rager

"Put your pants on, Luke," Brooke ordered as she buttoned up her own top. "My break is almost over."

"Is that all I'm good for?" Lucas questioned, grinning from ear to ear, refusing to pull his clothes back on. "A quickie at lunchtime?"

It had been one week since he'd first found her again, and they'd spent each day since then in a steady pattern of hooking-up.

Brooke glared at him, but relented as she watched him stretch and flex his oh-so-impressive muscles. "Among other things," she offered, gripping at his shoulders and forcing him to sit down in her one-of-a-kind desk chair. "Fuck work," she muttered under her breath as her cheeks heated in excitement. "You're so much more interesting." She sat down on top of him, straddling him tightly.

"Finally something we can agree on," he mumbled, wrapping his hands in her chocolate locks of hair. "Forget about work. I'll make it worth your while." He kissed her lips passionately, refusing to let up on his hold on her.

"You're a bad influence," she whispered after several minutes of intense kissing. She was panting heavily, her chest heaving.

Luke smiled crookedly. "You're one to talk."

She batted her eyelashes faux-sweetly. "To what are you referring?"

"I don't think I slept around nearly as much before I met you. Sketchy club bathrooms. _Clothes Over Bros _business offices." He licked his lips. "You're making me feel cheap, Pretty Girl."

Not that he'd complain.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Lucas," she whispered against him. "I'll buy you something real nice to make up for it." Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Don't patronize me." His lips curved upward despite his words.

"Don't give me a reason to," she challenged, leaning closer to him, kissing his shoulder and clawing into his back.

"Ahem," a feminine voice interrupted, coughing in that clearly uncomfortable way.

Brooke and Lucas both looked up instantly to see their intruder.

A petite young woman, wearing a modest outfit and nerdy glasses, smiled awkwardly back. Her dark brown hair fell in curls down her shoulders. She smiled politely at the couple despite finding them in their compromising position. Clearly Brooke's assistant who'd seen this before.

"Millie," Brooke greeted, friendlier than ever. "What's the plan for tonight?" She sounded professional, almost like she hadn't just been about to get it on at one O'clock on a Tuesday.

"The guests will start to arrive at your loft around eight," Millie went on, placing a stack full of papers on Brooke's desk. "There's a couple of business deals that you're supposed to work out tonight," she reminded.

Brooke snickered. "I don't need a babysitter."

Millie eyed Lucas. "You sure about that?"

Brooke glared at her like a stubborn child, apparently done with the ruse of professionalism. "I'll get it done," she promised.

Millie gave one last knowing smile before disappearing out of the room.

"What's happening at your loft tonight?" Lucas questioned once the door had closed and they'd been left alone again.

"Nothing that concerns you," Brooke responded aloofly, crawling back to her feet. She grabbed the stack of papers and began shuffling through them, eyeing them with rapt concentration.

"You're throwing a party?" Lucas asked as he stood up behind her and wrapped his arms around her small waist. "And you _weren't _going to invite me?" He was teasing, building back to their former moment, but Brooke wouldn't have any of it.

She spun around to face him. "I'm _still _not inviting you," she countered, sounding standoffish. "We're not an _item_, Luke." She held up her fingers to make air quotes over the word. "We don't do the whole public thing."

Lucas pulled her closer until their lips were nearly touching. "We did it in public ten minutes ago. We did it in public yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that—"

"Okay." She held up her hand for him to stop. "We do _it _in public, but we don't let the world and tabloids know that Brooke Davis is dating an unemployed and nearly homeless nobody."

_Low blow, _Lucas thought to himself, narrowing his eyes.

"We keep this a private matter," she continued, eyeing her desk chair. "Then we won't have any problems."

"Fine," he muttered through gritted teeth. "Don't invite me as your significant other. I'll be the sexy, mysterious newcomer that everyone will—"

She pressed her fingers to his lips, demanding his silence. "Don't push this, Luke," she warned.

He brushed her off. "I won't cause a scene," he pledged. "I just want to see what you're all about. Where you live. How you live. Let me into your world, Brooke Davis." He smiled encouragingly at her.

"I said no," she spoke firmly, unwavering. "Leave it alone." She grabbed his arm and pushed him toward the door. "I'll just see you tomorrow," she said as she ushered him out the door. "Same time."

Luke followed her directions, allowing himself to be escorted out. "Fine," he agreed, hiding his contemplative expression.

Brooke didn't know yet, but her refusal would only serve to spur him on.

* * *

Clay stood against the doorframe of Lucas' temporary room. It was becoming a habit of sorts for him to show up announced, and most of the time, unwanted. He held a bag of caramel popcorn and was shuffling it noisily, and clearly on purpose. "Hot date?" he asked through a full mouth.

Luke stood with his best posture, gazing into the full-body mirror in front of him. He eyed Clay's reflection irritably. "Something like that," he said as he fixed the tie he had borrowed.

"Fancy, designer clothes," Clay noted, studying his roommate with a critical eye. "Expensive cologne. Badass aura." He smiled thoughtfully. "I think I'm rubbing off on you."

Luke chuckled. "Fat chance."

Clay stumbled into the room, smelling unpleasantly of Jack Daniel's. "Please. We're definitely starting to look alike." He stood next to Luke, comparing their reflections.

Even Luke had to admit there was quite the resemblance now. "Scary possibility," he mumbled under his breath.

Clay shrugged. "On second thought I've changed my mind. You're really average compared to me." He ran his hand through his hair, posing an arrogant smile.

Lucas punched him in the shoulder. _Hard. _"Go to hell." He shoved Clay toward the door. "And get the fuck out. I'm busy."

Clay laughed to himself. "Testy. You'd think with all the sex you've been having you'd be a little more enjoyable to have around."

Luke scowled. "Think again." He shoved harder.

"Okay. Okay." Clay found himself in the doorway again. "I'll leave," he consented. "Just tell me what you're getting all classed-up for."

Lucas hesitated for a moment. "Brooke's having a party at her loft," he said after a minute.

"You get to fuck New York's most eligible bachelorette and party with A-listers? When did your life get so fucking awesome?" He shook his head in envy. "I never thought I'd want to be a Scott, but I _definitely _want to be you tonight."

Lucas fidgeted nervously, setting his shoulders. He wasn't so sure _he _wanted to be him that night. He hadn't dealt with Brooke's wrath yet, but there was a first for everything.

* * *

Lucas struggled even getting into her building. Security was a bitch. So was her doorman. He'd had to sneak past everyone just to get to the elevator, and even then he'd felt paranoid that he'd get caught, but eventually it had opened to reveal a dimly-lit yet open foyer.

Workers for the party were scattered around, busily preparing for the imminent party.

He spotted_ her _almost immediately, and felt his heart drop. She was slowly, leisurely coasting down her grand staircase, appearing more regal than ever.

Brooke was a vision in gold. Her dress was revealing, as was to be expected, and it ended right above the knee. Her hair was pulled up in a complicated updo, pinned to perfection. Her lips were crimson, alluring and full. They tempted him to his very core.

She looked happy for a moment, excited even, but that changed the second she locked eyes with her earliest guest. Her first partycrasher.

"What the hell, Luke?" she blurted out, descending the stairs much quicker than before. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, already sounding seriously pissed-off.

"I wanted to see you," he admitted truthfully. "Now seemed as good a time as any." He knew that wasn't true.

"Fuck that," she shot back. "Can you ever just do what you're told?"

Lucas pushed a small piece of loose hair behind her ear. "You'd be bored in ten seconds flat if I did."

She slapped his hand away. "I don't want you here. Get out," she ordered, showing no signs of indecisiveness.

Lucas swallowed hard. Man up. _Man up. _This was his new mantra thanks to his dick of a roommate that never left him the fuck alone. "No," Luke finally answered.

Brooke stepped back, shocked. "_No_?"

Lucas took a deep breath. "No," he repeated numbly. "I'm not going anywhere just yet."

He didn't know what it was about Brooke, but he needed to be around her, and not just in the comfort of her office or a club bathroom. He liked the spontaneity with her. The craziness. But there was something to be said about the simple life of just being a plain old couple that could attend parties together.

She was bringing out a new side to him, and he'd be damned if he didn't give it his all.

"Fine," she broke the silence, appearing indifferent like usual. "Stay. Drink. Mingle. Just know you won't be ending the night with me."

Lucas shrugged. "I've ended it alone before. No big deal."

She smiled cruelly. "Oh, _I _won't be alone. I fully intend to get some before the nights over. It just won't be from you."

He glared down at her. "That's what it's going to be like then," he wondered, knowing full well that he wasn't ready to lose her yet.

"You purposefully ignored my wishes by coming here." She paused, letting her temper cool. "Then I'll purposefully avoid sleeping with you."

"You do that then," Luke countered, refusing to believe she'd actually do that to him. They hadn't had the exclusive talk, but he sure as hell wouldn't consider hooking up with anyone else. No one would come close.

He just didn't know how serious a Brooke Davis threat really was.

* * *

He was tall, deliciously so. He had gorgeous dark hair that matched his darker-toned skin and he had a foreign flare to him that immediately captivated Brooke's interest. His eyes were even darker than hers, and twinkled with the same devilry.

Brooke had found her latest victim and conquest in the sea of guests that were swarming around her apartment. Everyone was chatting animatedly and drinking their free cocktails, fully benefitting from the delights that came along with a _Clothes Over Bros_ event.

Brooke had sought out her one-night stand from the minute her clock had struck eight and the guests had started to arrive. And after careful scoping around, she had found a perfect contender—a man she'd never met before and never planned on seeing again.

She smiled impossibly sweetly up at him. "You're new," she stated curiously, biting her lip as she gave him a once-over.

The man echoed her movements, studying her up and down, trailing down from her stunning, hypnotic brown eyes to her long, sexy legs. "But experienced," he taunted.

Her eyes lit up, playing along. "I have no doubt."

"I'm Felix," he offered eagerly, taking her hand in his without permission. "Felix Taggaro. Real estate tycoon."

Brooke gave him an appraising look, pulling her hand away. "Is that how you always introduce yourself? With tacky business labels?"

He smirked at her. "This is New York, isn't it? Business and pleasure is the name of the game."

Brooke slowly raised an eyebrow. "Who said it's a game?"

"You did," he countered easily, giving her a cocky grin. "By not giving me your name yet."

"Oh?" she questioned, interested again. "And what happens once I give you my name?"

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "I don't know. Coatroom should be free."

Brooke narrowed her eyes. "Who the hell do you think you are?" It wasn't the forward suggestion that bothered her, but rather that she hadn't been the one to say it.

"Don't get pissy, sweetheart," Felix countered. "I see that lustful look in your eye. You want it just as bad as I do."

"Maybe so," she allowed. "But it's not like you're my only option here." Her eyes wandered around the room quickly, searching for a certain broody blond. Maybe it wasn't too late to apologize.

"Be that as it may." Felix did a double-take of her body. "I'm still the best."

"No," she challenged, eyes blazing. "_I'm _the best."

Felix pursed his lips. "Let's find out." He put his hand on the small of her back, directing her toward the coatroom.

* * *

Lucas stood in the room, leaning against the corner wall. His muscles were completely tensed as he watched Brooke flirt with an attractive, well-dressed man he'd never met but already despised.

The whole situation felt incredibly similar to when he'd met Brooke at the club. He watched as she went from acting coy to forward to withdrawn before finally being led away from the party. Luke had every idea of what they were about to do.

That was the last straw for him.

He walked toward them with every intention of making a confrontation right then and there. He stopped when he was close enough to hear Brooke's seductive voice turn angry.

"I mean it," she told her companion as she attempted to jerk her arm away. "This is my fucking party. I'm not just hiding out with you in a fucking closet."

Lucas watched eagerly for the man's reaction to her rejection.

Felix just laughed. "Come on, Doll. It'll be an experience you won't forget." He pulled her closer to the coatroom door.

"Let go of me, jackass," Brooke ordered, voice growing louder and more determined.

Lucas had seen enough. His fist connected with jaw, forcing Felix to release his hold on Brooke while sending him bounding backwards. Lucas shook his hand out in pain as he watched Felix smack into a table behind them, effectively knocking it over.

"What the _fuck?_" Felix shouted, standing back up and hurtling forward with purpose. "What the fuck is your problem?" he demanded of Lucas, face turning a million shades of angry red.

Luke clenched his fist again, never taking his eyes off of Felix. "She said to back the fuck off," he warned, sounding deadly serious. He ignored the fact that all eyes of New York's A-listers were on him.

Felix let out a small non-humorous laugh. "She doesn't know what she's saying."

Lucas couldn't stand it another second. He shot forward, tackling Felix in one movement until they were rolling around the floor. Knuckles pounded into flesh repeatedly, bruising almost instantly on both men.

Brooke worked to break them apart. She grabbed Felix's shoulders and pulled hard. After Lucas landed another punch, Felix rolled over, accidentally causing Brooke's dress to rip on the side.

"Dammit," she cursed, finally stepping away to leave them to it. Testosterone was hard to mess with, even with someone as tough as her.

She was done.

* * *

It took a good five minutes before anyone could successfully pull them apart. Once Felix had been sent home in a taxi and the rest of Brooke's guests had left, she'd also ordered her workers to leave, requesting that they return the next day to clean up the mess both Luke and Felix had created.

Lucas was the only one that remained. He knew he had to apologize, but he didn't want to. That Felix guy had deserved everything he'd dished out and then some, but still, he'd watched in horror as tears had formed in Brooke's impossibly beautiful eyes.

She stood in the middle of her apartment, gazing dazedly at the chaos surrounding her.

"Brooke," Lucas whispered in his quietest voice as he walked up behind her. "I'm sorry."

"Get the fuck out!" Brooke ordered suddenly, screaming at the top of her lungs, turning around to face him. "I mean it, Luke! Get the fuck away from me!"

"No!" Lucas shouted back, equally loud, equally angry. "You don't get to fuckin' boss me around like I'm one of your goddamn servants!" He had simply been defending her after all. _What the fuck was her problem now? _

"I'll treat you however I fucking please!" she bellowed as her breathing became ragged. "You found me! You wanted to see how I lived my life! You wanted to be a part of it!" She threw her hands dramatically in the air. "This is it! Now are you in or out?"

Lucas stared her down, taking in her ripped dress, her red-rimmed eyes. This was going to get fucking complicated fast.

This wasn't him. He didn't get in fights. He didn't argue with his girlfriend. Could he even call Brooke his girlfriend? Nothing was clear for him. Nothing made sense since the first moment she'd walked into his life. But he didn't care. He still wanted to prove to her that he belonged with her. That he belonged in her life. That they fit together. That they were two jagged pieces of one seriously fucked-up puzzle.

He needed to be the guy from the club that night. Risky. Daring. _Dangerous. _

And he would be.

"Do you really have to ask?" he questioned, pulling her toward him and collapsing his lips against hers. "I'm _in." _

* * *

**A/N: Just so you all know, this is going to be a very dark and sexy story. There will be jealousy and greed and lies and fights, but I hope it's all very entertaining. It sure is to write. ;) Also, I've had a request to bring Rachel into this story. What is everyone's thoughts on that? Her introduction wouldn't be immediate, but it wouldn't take too long either. Anyway, REVIEW! More I get, faster I update. :) **


	4. Fashion Faux Pas

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! If I did, then OTH would've had more Brucas sexiness...**

**A/N: You guys are such sweethearts! Every single review posted puts such a smile on my face. Please keep it up! Endgame is up in the air at this point since I'm still forming the plot line, but don't count Brucas out ever. ;) Also, Rachel will probably make her debut in this story next chapter, but I promise that she won't be a focal point. REVIEW! **

* * *

Chapter 4: Fashion Faux Pas

Lucas inhaled deeply, letting Brooke's unique scent wash over him. It was a mixture of lavender and orange and lilac. It was delicious, mouth-watering. He pressed his lips to her skin, right above the navel.

Brooke let out a small moan. "Stop distracting me," she pleaded, as she stretched away from him toward the corner of her king-sized bed.

Lucas grabbed her hips to keep her in place beneath him. "No you don't," he said, as he stopped her. He leaned down and rubbed his nose against hers, tickling her. She giggled in her adorable childish way, dimples becoming more pronounced. "It's the weekend, Brooke. Take a break," he urged.

She sighed. "Look who's getting all bossy." She smiled brightly up at him. "Last time I checked _I _was the big CEO. You don't make the orders." She curved her body toward him. "But I do like the pretense." She wrapped her hand in his hair and pulled him down until their lips touched.

He pulled away, smiling. "You're right. You're definitely better as the boss. I'm just happy being the one you boss around."

She bit her lip. "Works for me." She pushed against him, turning him over until she was seated atop of him. "Be careful what you wish for," she warned, throwing herself down to him, kissing him so hard it would surely cause a bruise. Her gorgeous dark locks of hair fell around them.

"You're good at that," he complimented, dazed.

He still couldn't believe how lucky he'd gotten. He was with _Brooke Davis. _She was so beautiful that words couldn't begin to describe her and still be faithful or accurate. He couldn't quite place a finger on the why, but he was completely enamored by all things Brooke Davis.

As if on cue _The Lonely Island_'s "Like a Boss" started around them. Brooke rolled lithely off the bed and snatched her Iphone off her bookcase. She dutifully hit the answer button.

"Davis here," she spoke into her phone. "Mhmm. Mhmm." She barely offered an actual word. "It's all set up. Six sharp. See you then." She set her phone down again, eyes twinkling brightly.

"Work?" Lucas guessed, disappointed that she'd successfully escaped him.

"Don't pout," she admonished.

Lucas stifled his disappointment momentarily. He glanced over at Brooke's bedside table where a clock illuminated the dark room, declaring the time to be 4:33 a.m. How fitting that Brooke Davis would be a seasoned night owl.

"What's happening at six?" he questioned curiously.

Brooke bit her lip again, like she was having some inner debate, deciding whether or not to tell him something. Her expression finally became open. "It's fashion week, Luke. All of New York's designers showcase their work for the whole world to see."

Luke nodded. How could he forget? New York was currently a bustle with advertisements and news of the most popular shows. That had just never been his thing up until now.

Brooke came back to the bed, quietly curling up next to him. "This was fun," she whispered against his chest, as she finally allowed her eyes to close. "We should do this every night."

Lucas smiled contently. "I think I'd be worn out by you."

"But it's so totally worth it," she murmured quietly.

Luke smiled even wider. "Hell yes it is," he spoke as enthusiastically as he felt.

Brooke let out a beautiful, melodic laugh. "Good to know."

Lucas slowly caressed her face, running his hand through her hair as she dozed off. "Tell me about your parents," he urged suddenly, hoping that Brooke would be more open at her tired and vulnerable state.

"Not a chance," she countered automatically like a reflex.

"Come on," he groaned. "If I'm going all in with this relationship, then you have to too."

Brooke swallowed nervously as she sat back up and crossed her legs while facing him. She took a deep breath, preparing herself. "The truth is I don't want to talk about my parents or growing up because there's just not much to say."

"What do you mean?"

Her eyes became downcast. "My dad cared more about his golf score and work than he ever cared about me. He was hardly at home for all eighteen years that I lived there. My mom went heavy on the gin and _Prada_. There were times when my dad would leave on business for weeks at a time and my mom would go off on one of her spa weekends, then they'd set me up in a hotel all by myself with only the employees to watch over me. I felt like _Eloise at the Plaza._"

Lucas watched her closely. She was clearly affected by her parent's neglect, even years later. It was probably what had hardened her so much in the first place. "Don't tell me your favorite childhood memories come from a hotel?"

Brooke smiled sadly. "Most of them," she admitted, but her eyes widened suddenly like she'd just remembered something. "But there was this one time on my seventh or eighth birthday when they were both in town. The only birthday they didn't just throw their credit cards at me and tell me to buy something. We all went to Coney Island for the whole day. We just rode rides and ate junk food—a rarity for the Davis household—but it was the best day ever. Still is, actually."

She'd spoken so fondly of that one day. Lucas was so touched by her random outburst. He carefully pushed a loose lock of her hair behind her ear as his way of thank you. "Sounds like a great day," he offered. "But there should've been more than one."

She shrugged, nodding. "I'll take it." She suddenly stood back up. "I have more important things to focus on than my parents." She gave him her winning, energetic smile. "Like _you _for instance."

Lucas' cocked his head. "Oh, yeah?"

She nodded again. "In fact," Brooke started up, as she turned to her desk and searched through the top drawer for something. "I have something I want to give you." She held something discreetly behind her back as she maneuvered her way back to the bed.

Lucas held his hands in front of him in anticipation. "What is it? Newest edition of NBA live?"

Brooke rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's your prize for being_ so _good in bed."

Luke held his hand to his heart, pretending to be wounded. "You see, I aim to kid, but you hurt."

Brooke laughed airily, ignoring his theatrics and placing a small name tag with his picture on it into his waiting hands. "This is my way of making it up to you then. A sorry of sorts for not inviting you to my last work event."

Lucas studied his photo, feeling uncharacteristically touched. He didn't even remember her taking it. It was hardly the most flattering candid of him, but it meant a lot that she'd even make the effort. "This is for your fashion show?"

Brooke nodded as way of answer. "Only the best clearance for my boy." She kissed his lips lightly. "You'll get backstage with that. Be there any time after six tomorrow." She kissed him again harder.

Luke bit his tongue. Brooke was opening up to him in ways he never thought possible; talking about her parents _and _inviting him to her uber-exclusive show in just one night. It didn't seem real that she'd recently ordered him to stay out of the public eye. They'd made so much progress so quickly, and now he was about to fuck it all up with three simple words.

"I can't go," he told her tensely.

Brooke stepped away from him, confusion written all over her flawless face. "What do you mean?"

Lucas fidgeted awkwardly. "I have some...things to do," he responded vaguely, hoping to avoid an explanation. He just didn't know if she'd understand his plans for the following day. He was too embarrassed to even admit them out loud yet.

"Some _things_?" She sounded angry and suspicious.

"I'm sorry," he apologized immediately. "I want to be there. You know how much I'd want to support you and your work, but I've had these things planned—these appointments—for a while now and I can't just cancel with such short notice."

Brooke's face became neutral. "Fine," she bit back unhappily, crawling back into bed but facing away from him this time. "Let's just go to bed. I've got a big day tomorrow."

Lucas sighed, wanting to talk about it further but knowing that it would be for the best if he just let it go. Brooke might be more reasonable in the morning.

Then again, had he ever been right about the brunette bombshell yet?

* * *

Luke was staring up at the ceiling in his increasingly more permanent room, watching as his fan spun round and round, making him dizzy and slightly nauseous.

Brooke hadn't been more reasonable that morning like he'd originally hoped. She hadn't been hostile per se, but only for the fact that she'd been gone before Lucas had even woken up.

No note. No goodbye. Nothing. She'd just left her apartment. Typical Brooke Davis behavior when pissed-off, and now he'd returned to his own shared apartment to think over everything—evaluate what to do next.

"Self-pity is the worst kind of way to spend the day," Clay's voice erupted into the room.

Lucas groaned, sitting up to face his roommates' latest antics. "What do you want, Evans?"

Clay crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame again as casually as possible. "Oh, you know, wondering how it's fucking possible that Brooke Davis' boyfriend could be so fucking miserable."

Luke put his head in his hands. "You'd be surprised how easy it actually is."

Clay gave him a pointed look. "Stop fucking up then."

"You assume I'm the problem?" Lucas inquired, annoyed that Clay was once again right.

Clay laughed. "I don't need to assume, Man. I _know_. Brooke Davis can do no wrong, so what'd you do this time?"

Luke rubbed his eyes, desperate to make all of his problems go away. "Brooke wanted me to go to her fashion show tonight, but I have an important meeting I can't miss."

"A_ meeting_?" Clay sounded just as suspicious as Brooke.

Luke punched the frame of his bed. "It's not fucking code for hooking up with another girl. I actually have a meeting at a new publishing house and everything."

Clay stifled more laughs. "You're job hunting?"

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. What's it to you?"

"And you couldn't just blow it off? Tell her about it?"

Luke shook his head. Brooke's recent words still stung. _Brooke Davis is dating an unemployed and nearly homeless nobody. _

He really needed a job. He needed to be worthy of her—her equal. "You don't know a damn thing about it. Last time my career was brought up it didn't go very well."

Clay made a pshh noise. "So Brooke Davis is embarrassed by you from time to time. You still get to fuck her regularly. That's reward enough. She deserves to have you there today—at her show. Your work can wait."

"Do you have to be so vulgar all the time?" Lucas demanded. _Fuck_ was so impersonal.

"Yes," Clay answered instantly, smiling as winningly as Brooke did. "But you should listen to me, Scott. I know what I'm talking about."

"You've never even had a long-term relationship," Luke pointed out.

Clay pursed his lips. "Maybe, but you know I'm right." He left the room, once again leaving Lucas alone to his self-pity.

Lucas just didn't know which decision was better in the long run: attending Brooke's show or bettering his career to impress her?

* * *

He'd ultimately followed Clay's advice—blown off his job interview in favor of supporting his girl.

Lucas had dressed in another borrowed suit, resolving to purchase a few of his own soon. He'd used his clearance to get behind the scenes of the hottest _Clothes Over Bros _event of the season, and was now watching Brooke Davis work her CEO magic backstage.

Her dress was short, ripped far above the knee, showcasing her creamy-skin legs. The dress was custom made, by her no doubt, and was a dark purple color that complimented her smoky eye makeup. She looked chic, impressively so, and like an all-around badass.

Lucas had no doubt that every other woman in that room was terribly intimidated by her, even the ridiculously skinny, tall, and over-paid models.

Brooke Davis was stunning, successful, and passionate. There was an air to her that was so intoxicating, and it wasn't just her heavenly scent. She had a unique presence that completely enthralled him—entranced him like nothing else could.

Brooke Davis truly was one-of-a-kind. And he'd be damned if he lost her now or ever.

"How is the most beautiful girl in New York?" he asked finally, interrupting his own analyses of her.

She turned sharply until her stony light brown eyes fell on him. She looked serious and determined, unlike her usual flirty self. "Just New York?" she questioned.

He gave her a pondering stare. "Nah. Most beautiful girl anywhere," he rectified.

Brooke smiled lightly, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Better," she approved. "I thought you weren't coming. There was _something_ you had to do?" She was taunting him, punishing him for even considering her as a second option.

He shrugged uneasily. "Change of heart," he offered lamely, hoping to appeal to her forgiving side. "I thought I'd cheer on my pretty girl."

Her smile didn't waver at his explanation, apparently he was forgiven. Momentarily, at least. "You're going to cheer _me _on?" She sounded doubtful. "Just leave the cheering to me." She patted his shoulder as her way of dismissal.

Forgiven, but clearly unwanted. "I'm sorry," he spoke nervously. "I wanted to be here. It's just..." he trailed off.

"What, Luke?" she demanded impatiently. "Spit it out." Forgiven was clearly an overstatement. He wasn't even tolerated by her at this point. "You just couldn't decide if I was more important than those _things _you had to do?" She was clearly _not _over it yet. Not even close. "Go do them. I've got a show to run."

Lucas groaned loudly, more pissed-off at himself than anyone. "I shouldn't have said that. I want to be _here_," he said forcibly as way to convince her. "I want to be with you," he added just as emphatically. "Wherever you go."

It was quite the declaration, just short of that highly sought-after "I love you."

But Brooke Davis wouldn't be won over that easily.

She quickly stepped forward, snatching off his clearance I.D. in one swoop. "I'm busy," she muttered with a wave of her hand. "Too busy to deal with a clingy occasional fuck-buddy."

_Ouch. _Luke set his jaw, unwilling to let his ego be further bruised.

"Fine." He smiled bitterly to her as he backed away before security would get the privilege of kicking him out. She'd just _love _to see that again. "Break a leg," he tacked on sarcastically, although he actually wanted her to succeed and knew that she would. He was just being stubborn, like her. But she would do amazing, as per usual.

She was Brooke Davis, after all; the world didn't stand a chance. And neither did he.

"Bye, Luke." She didn't look mad anymore, only disappointed, like he should've done something differently. Said something to make things right.

He just didn't know what the fuck it was.

* * *

Brooke made her way to the center of the stage. The spotlight beat down brightly on her, illuminating her for the entire audience to see.

She held a microphone to her lips and spoke, "Welcome." He voice echoed around, loud and booming sexily. "Thank you all so much for coming out her tonight. It means the world to me that I get to share my work with you. Tonight is all about the new line, a new era of _Clothes Over Bros_. A season of daring change and rebellion. So without further ado...I unveil the _Clothes Over Bros _Fall Line."

A hopelessly skinny brunette made her way on stage in a Davis' original as Brooke clamored behind to watch from the sidelines.

Luke stood to the back of the audience, eyes drawn completely to the brunette behind stage. He'd decided to stay even after she'd banished him. He just couldn't miss a moment of her night when all of New York and the world was watching for mistakes in her show, when there would surely be none.

As he'd watched her introduce her clothes he'd noticed that she'd fallen into that awe-inspiring, commanding tone that no one would dare look away from. She had them all, hook, line, and sinker.

_Damn was she good. _He didn't even know why anyone would bother to look at the models when Brooke Davis was around. It was just a complete waste of time. He only had eyes for her.

"Mr. Scott," a familiar voice greeted, interrupting his thoughts.

Lucas turned to find Millie, Brooke's unorthodox assistant, staring at him expectantly. "Ms. Huxtable," he echoed her formality.

Millie smiled politely. "It's great of you to show up for this."

"I wouldn't miss it," he said, ignoring the guilt he felt for even considering otherwise.

Millie became serious. "I mean it, Luke. Don't give up on her." She nodded in Brooke's direction.

Luke's expression became questioning. "What are you saying?"

Millie cracked her knuckles nervously. "Brooke has let a lot of great guys go in the past," she explained. "I've watched as she flitted from man to man, pushing each one away until there was nothing left but pure animosity. I've always known that she guards herself too much because she's too afraid to let someone in. I don't want to see that happen again. If you two have a shot in hell of making it then you need to understand all of that. You can't give up on her."

"I wouldn't," he answered automatically.

"You say that now," Mille spoke disappointedly. "But you don't what she's capable of."

_Does anyone? _He wanted to ask but refrained. He wasn't so sure he wanted an answer to that after all.

"I won't give up," he promised her, meaning it with all his heart. And he really wouldn't. This relationship meant too much to him.

* * *

Brooke shook herself awake as the elevator brought her closer and closer to her apartment, where she would finally be able to rest after all the hectic goings-on of her fashion show and the after-party celebration.

She risked a quick glance at her _Gucci _watch. It was a quarter to six in the morning, and she'd never felt so exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to flop down on her ridiculously comfy bed and spend the entire next day there recuperating.

If only life were so predictable.

The elevator doors opened to reveal her impossibly bright foyer, highlighted by various arcade games and a cotton candy machine that had obviously not been there the day before. Soft but slightly obnoxious fair music filtered in the room, reminding Brooke of her favorite childhood memory.

"Coney Island," she whispered under her breath, as she locked eyes with a similarly exhausted blond man. "Luke, you didn't have to—"

Lucas came forward tiredly, pressing his index finger against her lips for quiet. "You said you only had one best day. Well, I think last night was a great day, and the day I met you was great, and every day since I found you again. I want every day to be great for you—for both of us—and I'll do whatever it takes to make it that way."

Brooke's eyes began to well over. "But this must've taken you forever, getting this all up here, waiting for me to come home." She started to sound stressed.

"I'd do it all again," Lucas promised easily. "You're what matters most to me. Tomorrow we'll do the real thing—a full day at Coney Island."

Her lips curved into that crooked, dimpled smile. "I can't believe you did all of this. It's too much...I don't deserve it...after everything I said last night—"

Lucas pressed his finger to her lips again. "Anything for you, Pretty Girl." He took her hands in his, directing her to the line of five different arcade games. "So which do you want to play first?"

She kissed his cheek appreciatively. "Whichever one you want to."

* * *

**Bam! This is so long this time...but it was so much fun to write. No cliffhanger this time, but there will be in the following few chapters. They just need to be happy for a little bit before I make them totally miserable. ;) Review for quicker updates! **


	5. Paris, Je T'aime

**Disclaimer: Do you even have to ask?**

**A/N: I've been dying to do this chapter for awhile now. Let's hope it well-received by you awesome reviewers. Also, Brooke speaks French in this chapter, and if any of you are from France, or Canada, etc, then please feel free to correct it. I know less than nothing about the language. ;) Review!**

* * *

Chapter 5: Paris, Je T'aime

"Come on," Brooke shouted out as she impatiently patted her foot against the cement floor. "We miss this flight and you won't hear the end of it."

Lucas came stumbling behind her. He was struggling with the four luggage bags he'd been forced to carry. One was his. The other three belonged to his fashionista girlfriend. "I'm here," he said, sounding reasonably exhausted.

They checked in their bags and went through security before wandering through the hectic airport with Brooke leading the way. She stopped suddenly in the middle of a hallway, eyeing the numbers around them.

"This our gate?" Lucas questioned, nodding to the ugly, blue seats in front of them that were lined up in a practical, airport pattern.

Brooke snickered. "Please. Brooke Davis doesn't do coach." She nodded to a secluded corner, where a set of doors read _Private First Class Lounge._

Lucas chuckled to himself. Of course. New York's elite was all about the luxury, even if it came at exuberant prices.

He gestured politely to her. "After you." He smiled excitedly as she stalked off in front of him, high heels clicking loudly as she went.

He still couldn't believe that they were leaving the fucking country. He'd never been further than Mexico, and even that trip had taken place years before when he'd still been in college.

There were a ton of perks to dating Brooke Davis, the fabulously rich owner of _Clothes Over Bros_, but this took the fucking cake.

He was about to leave on an all-expense paid trip to the fashion capital of the world, Paris-fucking-France. And to say he was intensely looking forward to it would be the understatement of the millenia.

Europe would be a magical place, he could feel it. Him and Brooke had already managed to stay together for awhile now, but he somehow felt like this trip would deepen their relationship. Seal their bond or whatever. It was the city of romance, after all.

The anticipation was killing him as he staggered into the lounge behind Brooke. The place smelled like roses and freshly-baked pastries. He sat down opposite her in a squishy, comfortable seat. Two brightly-colored mimosas were instantly brought to them by the staff.

"Think you can relax now, Broody?" Brooke asked as they waited to board. She was goading him, but he'd take the bait anyway.

Lucas narrowed his eyes. "I have fun," he argued.

"Sure, you do." She patted his shoulder. "Lucas, you're like the most serious guy I've ever met."

He took a healthy sip of his mimosa, proving his point that she was wrong in that analyse. "Let's change that." He leaned forward, pulling her chin toward him, and kissed her as hard as physically possible and with a deadly passion.

She pulled away, dazed to the extreme. She smiled blissfully, allowing his hands to wrap all around her in true boyfriend fashion. "I'm going to hold you to that."

* * *

The flight sucked major ass. It took over eight hours of in-flight time before they arrived at Paris-Charles de Gaulle Airport. They were jet lagged and partially hungover. Not the best start to what should have been an epic vacation.

They took a private car to the hotel, which was actually a five-star castle that Brooke had rented out the entire top level of.

Lucas could barely keep his eyes open as Brooke checked them in. An overly-helpful employee helped them get their bags to the room and offered numerous trip tips about what the young couple should do while there.

The room was beyond Lucas' expectations. It was huge, spacious, but still well-decorated. There were old-fashioned, renaissance-esque tables and closets. There were chandeliers, a balcony, and more windows than Lucas had ever seen before in one place. It was heaven in a hotelroom.

"Merci pour votre aide. Je l'apprécie vraiment," Brooke articulated with a flawless accent to the helper before she sent him on his way with a generous tip. Her words held no proof of any American ties at all.

"Je vous remercie, mademoiselle," the man replied. "Profitez de la journée."

Brooke smiled gratefully. "Vous aussi."

"You speak French?" Lucas questioned as the bellhop left the room.

"I'm fluent actually." She watched as Lucas made an impressed face. It was clear that he hated constantly feeling inferior to her. "Luke, it's not a big thing. It's second nature for high fashion designers to know French. I speak Italian, too."

"I took high school Spanish," was all Lucas offered.

"Oh, well. Te estás divirtiendo?" _Are you having fun?_

Lucas suddenly felt inadequate with his answer of "Si."

"Luke," she reprimanded at his general lack of enthusiasm. "We're _having fun_. Remember? No brooding, Broody."

He nodded mutely before plopping down on the canopy-styled bed. "How about we sleep first?"

Brooke giggled. "How about something a little more physical?" She jumped on top of him.

His eyes jerked open. He was awake now.

* * *

Brooke pulled a fourth dress over her head and tossed it to the side, groaning audibly. "I brought nothing to wear barhopping," she declared loudly to the unnervingly quiet room.

Lucas' eyes blinked open. He rubbed his forehead as he slowly moved into a sitting position. He looked across the room to see that Brooke was standing in front of a full-body mirror trying on various dresses that all looked equally flattering and sexy on her. It was impossible to look anything but.

"How long did I sleep?" he asked tiredly.

Brooke met his eyes in the mirror. She sucked in a breath, appreciating his naked chest. "Ten hours," she finally told him. "Give or take. It's night now. Time to make the most out of my scarce free time. Starting tomorrow I have to be working on my show."

"More fashion shows," Lucas grumbled.

"You knew the deal," Brooke started. "You and I go on a free trip, but I have to work."

He pulled himself out of bed and walked over to her. His hands slowly encompassed her waist as he stared at their reflection. They looked damn good together. Brunette with blond. Blue eyes with hazel. "Let's make the most out of tonight then. No wasting time picking clothes. I know you have the perfect outfit with you. You did bring_ three_ suitcases."

Brooke smiled conspiratorially. "Two for me. The last one's for you."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "I brought my own."

"I know." Brooke clapped her hands together excitedly. "But you needed suits and I was happy to make them." She ran across the room and opened a closet. She pulled out a classic Brooke Davis original tux. "Here you are." She tossed it over to him.

It would easily be the best clothing ensemble he owned, he realized while inspecting it. He quickly changed into it, coming back out to parade it in front of its maker.

Brooke had changed herself. She now wore a stunning red dress that reminded Lucas of the devil. For some reason, he just thought it was missing feathers.

"You look great," he told her honestly.

"Back at you." She grabbed her purse and walked to the door. "I heard about the haughtiest bar that just opened downtown." She saw his skeptic look. "If you get bored, then you can bitch about the other guests." Her eyes glimmered.

He smiled at her, and followed her out to the waiting car below. "You got yourself a deal."

* * *

"This is from the man at the end of the bar," the well-dressed bartender announced in a thick accent as he presented a glass of Veuve Clicquot.

Brooke's eyes drifted to the location mentioned, spotting a sexy, scruffy French man. He lifted his own flute in the air and saluted her before bringing it to his lips suggestively.

"Fucking foreigners," Lucas muttered under his breath as he watched the exchange.

Brooke turned back to him, an edge to her stance. "Jealous?" Her tone was accusing but light.

He shook his head. "I just fucking wish we could go out once without you getting hit on."

Her eyes brightened. "So you _are_ jealous." She twisted around again, facing the bartender. She pushed the glass back toward him. "Send it back," she ordered. "I'm off the market."

Lucas was stunned but undeniably thrilled at her response to the stranger. She was _off the market_. Damn right.

She shrugged at Lucas, noting his obvious approval. "What? He wasn't that impressive." She sounded indifferent.

She felt a tingle up her spine as Lucas placed his hand on her middle back, right in the most sensitive spot.

"Do _I_ impress you, Brooke Davis?" His hand slid lower.

She squirmed slightly. "Hardly."

His hand rested there, while his other hand closed around her hip. He narrowed his eyes sexily, staring into hers. "You want to rethink that answer?"

Brooke scoffed. "'Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another.'"

"Anaïs Nin." Lucas remembered the quote. "You know a lot about French feminist writers?"

"Enough to understand that they knew what they were talking about."

She pulled away from him and saluted the bartender, who immediately brought over an entire bottle of champagne. Brooke grabbed it from him and began to down the alcohol straight from the bottle.

"Slow down there, tiger," Lucas warned in a half-serious, half-joking tone.

She pulled it away from her perfect lips and handed it to him. "Your turn," she ordered happily before hiccupping.

When she noticed Lucas was about to protest, she kissed him, sending the delicious, bubbly taste into his mouth. He'd have no choice but to follow any directions she ever gave him. It went with his basic instincts.

He downed a gulpful and immediately felt its dizzying effects. He shook himself, already feeling more wild.

"Let's dance," Brooke ordered, swaying at the alien beat that was both understated and popping in the background. "Come on, Lukey-Luke." She grabbed his arm and pulled him to the dance floor, and then drank even more.

Lucas danced lamely since he lacked any sense of rhythm, but Brooke was a pro and made them both look good. She danced around him, twirled in his arms, and grinded against him. It didn't take long to catch the attention of every unattached man at the bar, which Lucas unhappily realized was all of them.

Lucas was really reminded of the club in New York. _Maybe they could have sex in the bathroom of this place too,_ he wondered. _That would show the damn spectators she was fucking taken._

But for some reason he decided that now would be a good time to lay everything on the table. Lucas took the deepest of deep breaths, building up his courage. "I have to tell you something, Brooke." His expression was unreadable.

Brooke turned expectantly to him, lifting her head from his shoulder, a suspicious glint now obvious within her stunning dark eyes. "What?" she snapped.

"You remember those things I had to do during your last show?" He watched as her expression darkened even more. "It's not what you think," he clarified instantly, knowing she assumed it was much worse than it actually was. "It wasn't just a thing. It was a meeting with a publishing house."

"A job interview?" she inquired, confused at best.

He nodded to confirm. "After I was fired from _Putnam & Pratt, _I tried calling every other publishing house in all of New York. Only one gave me an interview—"

"And you _missed _it?" Brooke swallowed angrily, stepping away from him. "I can't believe you didn't tell me."

Luke felt guilty. "I know. I'm sorry. But after what you said—"

His accusing comment pissed her off even more. "I don't deserve to be lied to, Lucas. No matter what."

"I know," he said again. "But, Brooke—"

"You can't fuck this up with all your half-truths—"

"_Brooke_," Lucas moaned, needing to finish his point. "You called me an unemployed and nearly homeless nobody."

Brooke averted her eyes, ashamed for once. She'd forgotten about that.

"And I know I don't need any more reasons to feel inferior to you," he continued. "You're intelligent. You're gorgeous. You're wealthy. You're famous. You've got your whole life together, and I'm a fucking mess, and even _you_ knew that from the moment you first met me. I just wanted to impress you for once."

Brooke remembered their earlier conversation from that night. Luke hadn't been teasing her when he'd asked her if she was impressed by him. He'd _needed _to hear it. "You think I have my life together?" she asked him, clearly surprised to hear that. "Luke, I'm twenty-five and I've never been in a healthy, lasting relationship. I haven't spoken to either of my parents in years. My free time is spent partying in clubs by myself, drinking booze, and hooking up with randoms, even at my work place. Does that sound very _put together _to you?"

Lucas looked surprised to hear her revelations. "Are you saying we're both fuck-ups?"

She nodded. "Complete and irrevocable fuck-ups, but maybe that's why we work together. We have so much baggage and regret and damage, but so far we've stuck this out. Maybe we can get through it all together—all that shit that life throws at us." She sounded shy and nervous, like his next words held an impossible weight in their relationship.

"I already told you." He moved closer to her and pulled her into his arms. "I'm in this relationship, all the way. I want that whole exclusive, mushy, handholding love that sometimes seems impossible, and I want it with you."

Brooke shivered. "Don't say that unless you mean it."

He answered her doubt in the form of a kiss, holding her face to his as if his life depended on their close proximity. "Let's get out of here." He searched her eyes.

She was so lost in his words that she couldn't reply right away. Her breathing was fast as she became more and more turned on. "Let's fucking hurry."

* * *

Brooke and Lucas slammed through the doorway of their hotelroom, a mess of limps as they devoured the other with their lips.

He pushed her down to the bed as soon as he could, and happily recalled that this was already their second time having sex just that day, and before the night was over he was determined to go for round three.

Lucas' hands found the hem of her dress. He began to pull it up but the few seconds it was taking to fully remove the article of clothing caused him an impossible amount of sexual frustration. He opted to quicken the entire process when he ripped the dress up the middle.

Brooke made a small noise of complaint that quickly dissipated when she laid in front of him completely naked. He gave her this look that was so demanding, so desperate and immediate that she shivered for a second time that night. She needed him inside of her _now. _

Her hands found him in the dark and moved to his collar, begging to abolish any obstacle that kept them even a millimeter apart. They were so close now you couldn't tell where Lucas began and Brooke ended. He towered over her, kissing at her bare skin as she made multiple noises of desire.

Lucas groaned loudly when she rolled them over until she was on top. She trailed kisses down his chest to his happy trail before pulling off the pants she'd made especially for him. His boxers went next.

She sank onto him, wincing at first before she began gyrating against him. They kept a constant pattern for a few minutes, building in speed every so often.

But after awhile, Lucas felt that surge of testosterone that demanded control. He grabbed Brooke's perfectly curvy hips, pushing her around until she lay on bottom. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he thrust into her.

They'd had sex before, obviously, but this time felt different. It made them both feel complete as they continued their kissing, never breaking in that touch. This was something deeper—an unforgettable, incomparable physical _and _emotional connection.

This was love.

They each felt the build up as Lucas went harder and harder until they both reached their releasing climaxes.

Brooke and Lucas both felt limply against the bed, unmoving in their closeness, but Lucas was suddenly nervous about that fact. His mind was in overdrive with worry over their relationship. He needed to make them work now. Brooke deserved someone amazing, and he hoped that was him.

One thing was certain: he fucking _loved _Paris, but only because he fucking loved Brooke.

* * *

**One Week Later: **

Lucas walked into his apartment. He couldn't believe he now thought of this place as his own.

There was no Clay around to welcome him back. He was fucking lucky.

The rest of the week of their vacation had gone smoothly. Brooke had spent her days working, while Lucas would spend the dayside experiencing the fine arts and museums that only Paris had to offer. And then they would ring in each evening with a dinner, perhaps a drink or two, and ultimately by making love.

In simple terms, it was perfection to every degree.

He'd hated having to part ways at the airport just minutes before, but she had a business meeting and he had to recover from a week spent with the sometimes incorrigible Brooke Davis.

He threw his suitcase down and laid on his bed, desperate for sleep. He almost got it too until his phone began to ring annoyingly loud next to him.

"Yep?" he answered uncaringly.

"Lucas Scott?" a feminine voice demanded.

"That's me," Lucas answered uninterestedly.

"This is Lindsey Strauss from _Putnam and Pratt Publishing House_. We'd like to offer you your job back."

Lucas pumped his fist in the air, reeling from newfound excitement. _Had he heard that correctly?_ Lindsey Strauss, the daughter of one of the higher ups, was calling him to offer him his job back.

"We're so sorry for the inconvenience we've caused, Mr. Scott."

_Mr. Scott?_ He'd always been referred to as _that-one-guy_ during his brief two months of employment there. _What the fuck was going on?_

"We'd of course be willing to compensate for any loss of salary and offer a full-range of benefits," she continued.

_Fuck yes. How did this happen?_

He worked to sound aloof and composed, like this wasn't a huge fucking deal. "I think we can make that work."

"Great." Lindsey sounded relieved. "Please be here early on Monday and we'll work out all the details."

Lucas didn't have to think twice before agreeing. "I'll be there."

"I'm so glad." She actually sounded it. "Please apologize to Miss Davis about this little misunderstanding. We made sure to clear it up as soon as she brought it to our attention."

So that explained it. Brooke had somehow meddled, presumedly using her status, to get him his job back.

"I'll give her the message," he said quietly before hanging up. He grasped the phone tightly in his hand before throwing it against the opposite wall.

Now only one thing was certain: Brooke had intervened and Lucas was fucking infuriated.

* * *

**A/N: So as promised, there will be repercussions now that may damage our dear Brucas, but stay tuned. And when I said that I wasn't sure what my endgame would be it was because I want to keep ya'll guessing. But rest-assured, this story is ten thousand percent Brucas, and the ending will be, too. Let's just hope it's a happy one. ;) Also, I know I said Rachel would be in this chapter, but I changed my mind on this entire chapter and rewrote it without her. Her debut is coming up, though. Patience, please. Anyway, review, cuties! That's the quickest way to make me update... **


	6. Crossing the Line

******Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, but it really should. **

******A/N: So this update is really delayed, but there's a reason for that. First off, I recently started another multi-chapter Brucas fic that I've been really inspired about, so this regrettably took the back-burner to that. Also, this chapter has a lot going on and I needed to get it right. I think I rewrote it about three times, but it always ended the same way. That said, things are going to happen in this chapter that may piss a few of you off, but don't freak out too much. There's always more to the story. And if any of you forgot, this takes place immediately after Lucas received the phone call from Lindsey offering him his old job because of Brooke's interference. And now, let the drama unfold...**

* * *

Chapter 6: Crossing the Line

By afternoon the formerly sunshine-filled weather evolved from a misty drizzle to a full-out downpour that drenched the streets. The former splendor of Manhattan's skyline was replaced by overcast, unpleasant chaos.

The weather seemed to directly impact Lucas' already rageful mood. It didn't help that Second Avenue was completely gridlocked with traffic and he was impatiently waiting for his taxi to reach its very specific destination.

Lucas was fucking pissed. He couldn't remember a time he'd been so fucking mad about something. _Anything._

He snatched up his phone; it had barely escaped the impact of being thrown full-force at his apartment wall. He dialed the same number he'd been calling for the last hour and a half without fail—_her_ number.

And she had repeatedly ignored each and every one. On purpose, no doubt.

He still couldn't believe what had happened. Brooke had intervened with his work. _Was she_ that_ ashamed that he didn't have a job?_ She'd called his bosses to manipulate them into giving him job back. His _fucking bosses_. _What the fuck was she thinking?_

His ear was pressed forcibly against the side of his phone listening as Brooke's rough, sexy voice apologized for missing his call and requested a message be left in the form of a voicemail.

"Fuck that," he muttered aloud crossly, earning unwanted attention from his driver. He glared at the rearview mirror. It was a warning—one that suggested it was not the fucking time to pry.

Lucas cussed out all the cars around them as he dialed for the fiftieth time. Brooke had some serious explaining to do. He wasn't about to wait for the answers.

And then suddenly, unexpectedly, he heard the line pick up.

"What the hell?" Brooke's voice barked as way of greeting.

"Where are you?" he demanded in a voice so venomous and acerbic it could break glass.

"Fuck," Brooke muttered back sharply. "What's your problem?" she whispered back. "I'm in a fucking meeting."

That gave fire to Lucas' idea. "Perfect," he said more to himself before hanging up, already forming a plan of confrontation.

All he had to do now was get there.

* * *

Lucas was seething as he entered into Brooke's place of business, flying through the building's revolving doors. Enough people knew him from his past sexcapades there that little suspicion was raised as he bounded loudly into her office, causing a more than perceptible commotion.

"Brooke," he shouted into the office, only to find it empty. "Fucking hell." He stepped back into the main hallway on a mission to find her.

For the first time, he actually noticed the building's interior. New and radical art pieces covered the walls. Bright, exciting color hues of fabric covered every table. And the place was a bustle with employees diligently working to meet their deadlines. Skinny women and men dressed better than they should be were snapping orders at each other.

He couldn't decide if it were more hectic in the freezing outside or in the high stakes of the fashion world in there.

He spotted Millicent amongst the clutter of people and bounded toward her without a second thought.

"Millie," he snarled, and her eyes shot up defensively. _"Where. Is. She?"_

Millicent looked like a deer caught in headlights. She held her hands up for him to slow down. "It's not a good time," she stuttered uncomfortably.

"Cut the bullshit," he ordered, towering over her. "Tell. Me. _Now."_

She shook her head almost sadly. "I knew this would happen," she mumbled softly, disappointedly. She pointed to a room behind her. "Don't give up," she urged him, even after he'd begun walking away.

He was too wrapped up in his rage to really listen. He hightailed it to the designated room and once again pushed through the door without warning.

It took him less than a second to spot the woman who held all of his affection and currently all of his anger.

His eyes shot daggers at her before he noticed that they weren't alone. Five others were there—three men and two women—all middle-aged and sporting professional demeanors. Brooke was clearly in the middle of a presentation.

She wore a modest violet dress and short strappy black high heels. Her gorgeous chestnut brown hair was pulled into a high ponytail that accentuated her strong cheekbones and those perpetually adorable dimples. But her smile quickly evolved into a shocked gawk before she stared him down icily.

"Mr. Scott," she welcomed with false cheeriness. "Thanks so much for getting back to me so quickly," she lied, clearly attempting to save face for this interruption in front of their audience. "Could you please wait in my office for a few minutes and I'll be right with you?"

He shook his head, loving the power he suddenly felt. He didn't know who those people were—buyers, executives? He also didn't give a damn anymore. Brooke had meddled with his career and this was the perfect opportunity for payback.

He scratched his head, smiling distastefully. "Actually, that doesn't work, sweetheart. I gotta keep a tight schedule today since I've got so much _work_ to do," he emphasized, dropping annoyingly obvious hints. He sat down in the middle of the room's desk, ruffling everyone's papers. "You ready for that quickie?"

Brooke's jaw dropped. She let out a breath of surprise. She'd never expect _that_ out of him. Without waiting for him to cause any more damage to her meeting, she walked over and slammed into him, grasping his arm and digging in her nails as she pulled him out of the room.

A couple's spat at work? _How cliché._

They didn't pause as they maneuvered between all of the workers throughout the main office before arriving at her individual one.

She pushed him into the room and locked the door immediately after. Lucas cockily walked over to her side of the desk and sat down in her chair.

She turned around slowly, like every nerve in her body was driving her to the limit. Her eyes found his—intense sparks of green and brown devouring his blue. "What the fuck is your problem, Lucas Scott?"

He crossed his arms in front of his body. "_My problem_?" He scoffed. "You started all of this."

One perfectly arched eyebrow rose. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You went behind my back and called my bosses," he explained, all riled up.

She frowned. "You're welcome?"

His eyes became squints. "Don't fucking go there!"

"What's wrong with what I did?" She sounded genuinely confused.

Luke exhaled, disbelieving that she still didn't understand. "You fucking_ called my old bosses_."

Her forward creased. "And they didn't give you your job back? I thought I made that clear."

"I didn't want my job back. Those fuckers fired me. Why the hell would I want to go back there?"

Brooke guffawed. "You said you wanted a job, but you were worried about my reaction, so I got you one as a surprise. Win, win," she chanted.

"You never even asked me," he countered, standing up intimidatingly. "It's not what I wanted. You never fucking talk to me. You just make your own damn rules. Well, guess what? You crossed a line. If you want this to work, we have to be equals. We need to fucking communicate or else we'll just resent each other—like how I feel right now."

Brooke crossed her arms in front of her body. "So leave," she stated simply. Lucas eyed her confusedly, so she went on. "You were the one that wanted to start a fucking relationship. It's not my fault that you got a little more invested in the emotional side of it all. To me, it is and has _always_ been about the physical."

"_Liar,_" he hissed vehemently. "I saw how you were at Coney Island and in France. It was the fucking time of your life."

She shrugged coolly. "Caught up in the moment," she offered. "It was a good run. We had fun. Decent sex." She shrugged again. "But it's done now."

He shook his head. This hadn't been the outcome he'd expected. They were supposed to fight, disagree, bitch each other out, but _breakup?_ That was inconceivable. "Brooke," he started nervously, desperate to fix things.

Her look was back—that impassive, _whatever_ expression that meant her mind was made up. She didn't give a fuck anymore.

"Get out, Luke," she ordered advisedly. "And don't fucking stalk me like last time."

Lucas' face fell. He wanted to go back and do everything over. He couldn't be losing her. He couldn't fathom a life without her at this point. "Brooke..." he started again in a perceptively begging tone. "Don't do this. I lo—"

She shoved him hard toward the door. "_Don't. Say. That_," she demanded through gritted teeth, fed-up with their heated confrontation. "We're done. Now get the fuck out."

He had no choice but to listen. He wandered aimlessly in the hallway, feeling the damning stares of every employee, feeling their judgment and disapproval. He felt his eyes prick up as he finally exited the building.

The weather hadn't improved. New York still felt dark and hopeless, and appropriately, he felt like his whole world was collapsing around him.

* * *

******One Week Later:**

He wasn't pining, per se. Lucas refused to believe that what he'd been doing the past week had been pining.

He was no longer the lighthearted, carefree Luke that he'd been his entire life. His world was a complicated, tangled mess and he no longer felt in control.

Brooke was at the center of his every thought, daydream, and his unavoidable stalking tendencies. Although, now he'd moved on to strictly online research.

He typed in Brooke's name in the search bar for the seventh time that week. Nothing new in the results. She'd been keeping a low profile ever since their breakup. _What did that mean_, he wondered.

"Little bitch," Clay greeted warmly as trudged into the room and laid down on Lucas' bed. "I missed your sourpuss attitude around the apartment. It's nice that you've alienated it to your own room." His voice dripped sarcasm.

Luke considered an insult, but ultimately went with the truth. "I can't get rid of the guilt," he explained, clenching his fists. "I had every right to be pissed about what she did, and yet, now I can't stop thinking about how I went about it all wrong." He punched his desk. "I didn't want to lose her altogether. I just can't stop thinking about the fact that I might be to blame for everything this time."

"_Every_ time." Clay snickered. "And yeah, the subconscious is one manipulative little fucker."

Luke groaned. "Helpful."

Clay stood and bowed. "I try to be."

"I just don't know where to go from here," he grumbled lamely. He'd been grappling with that question all week.

"You just need a distraction," Clay offered. "Your brother called. I'm picking him up from the airport later." He eyed his roommate with little expectation. "You want to tag along?"

Luke didn't hesitate. "Pass."

Clay sighed. "Fine. Just remember that if you don't move on soon or get the balls to win her back, then you're going to keep fucking up your life." He started to walk out of the room. "And you'll have no one to blame but yourself."

It didn't take a genius to know he was right.

* * *

Brooke sat at her desk, pretending to do her work. Her meeting had ended in disaster and now her upcoming line would barely be showcased in any of the top stores. She needed to find a way to reconcile her relations with the buyers, but for now she really just needed a distraction—a cathartic one at that.

"Millicent," she called, rubbing her temples to rid herself from the headache she'd maintained all week.

Her assistant walked in, notepad and pen poised in her hands. "Yes?"

Brooke sighed, desperate for energy. Work was stressful, but that was nothing compared to the emptiness she now felt in her romantic life. "I need a Brazilian," she admitted easily, vacantly.

Millicent gave her a look of suspicion. "Why?"

Brooke narrowed her eyes. "That's really none of your business. I could hook up with anyone I wanted to last time I checked. It really doesn't matter how buddy-buddy you are with Luke."

"I get it, but isn't that a little guy-centric?" Millie challenged. "Getting the Brazilian. You should do it for _you_."

Her advice worsened Brooke's already brittle mood. "I didn't hire you for your judgment. You're my assistant, so fucking_ assist_ me when I ask you to."

Millicent took a step back at her words. She knew Brooke well enough to know that her boss didn't mean what she was saying, but she also knew Brooke still needed the opportunity to vent, even if it were to the wrong person. Millie nodded enthusiastically, forcing a smile. "I'll make the appointment."

"Good." Brooke closed her eyes again, exhausted.

Millie headed to the door, searching for an escape. "By the way," she continued reluctantly. "There's a man here to see you. Just keep your pants on this time." And with that, she exited the office, leaving the door open for a very blond, slightly scruffy, and undeniably sexy man to walk into the room.

"Ah, Mr. Evans?" Brooke assumed his identity aloud, smiling surprisingly welcomely at meeting him for the first time. "Your reputation precedes you."

"As it should," he caroled back, sitting down across from her, comfortably making himself at home. "And call me Clay—Clayton for formal occasions."

"Well, _Clayton_." She placed her elbows on her desk, folding her hands together. "What brings you to my office this fine day?"

"I need your help," he admitted boyishly.

She wasn't biting. "With what?"

"Lucas," he added nervously, watching as her face contorted with anger at his suggestion. "Hear me out," he requested.

She smiled less politely. "No, thanks. We broke up and I'm not interested in playing the pity-party. Plus, our relationship wasn't built on much anyway. I mean, we hooked up randomly and then he tracked me down a month later? I don't need an overly-dedicated ex that creeps on me too much."

"Yes, but Lucas is like the least threatening stalker I know," Clay countered playfully.

Brooke's nose scrunched up. "That's comforting."

"Come on, give him a second chance. He's fucking miserable without you."

Brooke snorted. "As he should be."

"_Come on,_" he repeated. "Give the boy a break. People do stupid things when they're pissed off."

"He had no right to be," Brooke argued. "I did him a favor."

Clay held his hands up. "It's none of my business, really."

Brooke scoffed. "From what Luke's said, you've never really minded your own business to begin with."

Clay sighed frustratedly. "Fine. I think you probably had all the right intentions trying to get Luke his job back. I think you genuinely believed you were helping and I also believe that Luke overreacted about it."

"_But_?" Brooke fished.

"But," Clay continued. "I also know he's got a ton of fucking pride. You wouldn't guess it by all the whining and crying he does about you all the time, but he actually values doing things himself. You took that away. You made him less of a man."

"He's too insecure then," she complained. "It's not my fault if I'm not used to men like that."

Clay eyed her quizzically. "Weird. I could've sworn you were the same way."

Brooke didn't know if she should be insulted or flattered by his honest evaluation.

"I like you," Brooke said plainly, making the easy decision. "You're different that I thought you'd be. More entertaining, less of an asshole."

Clay pondered her words. "I'll take it."

She smiled widely—a signature call for misbehaving. "What are you doing later?"

Clay smiled slyly. "I couldn't possible hook up with you, babe. Bro code and whatnot."

Brooke let out an airy, nearly condescending laugh. "_Please_." She waved away his suggestion with the flick of her wrist. "There's a party uptown. Exclusive. Wild. Probably illegal." She bit her lip in anticipation. "Very unlike Luke and right now that's exactly what I want."

Clay scratched his chin, scruff and all. "He'd hate it."

Brooke's eyes sparkled. "And why the fuck should you care? You're too pretty to listen to a Scott," she cajoled.

They shot each other conspiratorial grins like they were kindred spirits in another life.

"When and where?" he asked fluidly, sensing that this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

* * *

The party was all Brooke had expected it to be. It was hosted by some industry model whose name she'd already forgotten. The apartment was enormous, loft-like. There were floor-to-ceiling windows that beautifully revealed New York's skyline.

Champagne was is steady circulation around the room. Brooke happily downed glass after glass in quick succession. The night had an ABC theme—Anything But Clothes.

Brooke had been forced to get creative. She'd cut up her expensive Parisian silk drapes and sewn them together in a complicated corset-like nightie. It was sexy, of course. Almost _too_ revealing, but Brooke knew when to drawn the line.

There was decent dance music in the background—some European techno. There were guests making out with each other—girls with boys, girls with girls, and so on.

Brooke even noticed some less-than-discreet drug deals going down.

That wasn't exactly her scene anymore and the lack of friendly faces started to make the night less than enjoyable.

There were too many bodies swarming around her. The heat was overwhelming, so she opted for a quick breather on the terrace outside. She slid the glass door open, gracefully stepping outside, and closed it loudly behind her.

She pulled out a pack of Merits and lit a cigarette, taking a drag to release some tension. She rested against the railing, allowing it to hold her up completely.

She felt so drained...and _bored_. This party was just more of the same. She'd spent a good portion of her teens and early twenties having nights like these, but there wasn't any magic left.

She had to grow up, and to do that she had to get the hell out of there.

Brooke put out her cigarette as she yanked open the sliding door to re-enter the suite. She collided with someone else that was stepping out onto the terrace simultaneously.

Her breath caught as she studied him. Broad shoulders. Dark brown hair that matched her own. Hint of scruff. Arrogant smile. But those glittering blue eyes were what got to her. They reminded her too much of a certain brooding ex.

The attractive young man stuffed his hands into the pockets of his green toggle coat—he apparently hadn't heard the memo about clothing-less costumes. He appeared overly sure of himself and confident. "Hey," he spoke with a sexy, convincing edge, sliding the door shut behind him.

"Hey," Brooke breathed back, caught off guard. _Who was this handsome stranger?_ "Do I know you?" she asked slowly.

"I doubt it." He stepped forward, leaning close to her. "Do you want to?"

She stepped back, letting out a surprised but impressed giggle. "What's your name?"

He shook his head. "No names, babe. If you want me, then you have be cool with a one-night deal."

They were two of the same. This was all Brooke ever wanted—just sex, no strings attached. Her short relationship with Lucas notwithstanding. "Lead the way," she ordered huskily.

And he did.

* * *

Brooke walked into the stranger's bathroom, feeling inexplicably cheap. She felt sick-to-her-stomach guilty, like she'd just committed this huge act of betrayal against Lucas.

But of course, she hadn't. They weren't together anymore. She had every right to hook up with someone else. Lucas didn't own her, but he had made her realize there was more to life than sex and ecstasy.

"Brooke?" a familiar voice questioned.

But that wasn't her mystery hook-up guy, that was...speak of the devil.

"Lucas?" Brooke demanded as she turned and made eye contact with her somber ex-boyfriend.

"What are you doing here?" he asked right away, sounding confused yet hopeful.

_Maybe she finally wanted him back. Why else would she be there? How did she even know where he lived? _His mind went crazy with the possibilities.

He closed the bathroom door, unwilling to let Clay eavesdrop on their conversation. He still didn't know what she was doing there—in his bathroom, no less.

Brooke appeared even more confounded than him. "I was just..." At a loss of words.

"Hey, baby," her mystery hook-up guy called from outside the door. "Get another condom. I bet they keep them in the closet." He opened the door, spotting Brooke first and then Lucas. He smiled widely. "Long time, no see, brother."

* * *

**A/N: Bam! Big reveal, I know! So anyway, this isn't a love triangle, so don't fret too much. Also, don't hate on Brooke too much. And as always, REVIEW! I'm actually going to wait to update this story with another chapter until I get 100 reviews total. I'm selfish, I know. ;) Either way, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!**


	7. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

**Disclaimer: I own the plot line, but the characters will never be mine.**

**A/N: So I was pretty nervous about your reaction to the last chapter, but for the most part I expected everything you guy's said. Some of you love the drama, a lot of you are hating on Brooke, and some are calling out Luke for being too whiny. Well, everything I've written so far has been very intentional. I'm a firm believer in character development, so to get there, then bad decisions have to be made sometimes. Anyway, this is set a couple of weeks after Brooke and Nathan slept together. There'll be flashbacks to explain what went down. Read on, wonderful reviewers. ;)**

* * *

Chapter 7: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

"Nice fucking hair," Clay mocked, taking a seat at the bar next to his roommate. "I thought only assholes in fraternities got mohawks?"

Lucas cocked his head, feeling the result of his newest haircut with his hand. "It goes with the new wardrobe." He gestured down at his latest purchases—a gray Brooks Brothers blazer, a pale blue Chanel tie, and black Diesel jeans.

He was done being Brooke Davis' personal whipping boy. He lived in the greatest city in the world. He was in his twenties—without ties and real responsibility. He had his whole life ahead of him. He might as well fucking act like it.

"Ah, and look who finally turned into a pretentious, albeit decently well-dressed asshole," Clay commented knowingly, chuckling as he snapped his fingers to get the bartender's attention. "Johnnie Walker," he ordered. "Blue Label." He leaned over and grabbed Lucas' drink, taking a sip without asking. "And another Caribou Lou for my friend here."

Lucas eyed him, knowing better than to be surprised at Clay's never-ending knowledge on drinks. "I think you're an alcoholic," he noted out loud, drinking more from his own glass until it was empty.

Clay just laughed some more. "This coming from the man drinking Bacardi 151. That has more alcohol content than absinthe, my man."

"It makes things more entertaining," was all Lucas could offer. He just couldn't be sober right now. He needed a very specific frame of mind.

"Damn right," Clay agreed, lifting his newly concocted drink into the air. "Here's to a fucking good time tonight." He clinked Lucas' newly-full glass. "And now that you're no longer a total boring fuck, maybe you can enjoy yourself a little. I don't need a pansy-ass wingman. You can't keep up, then I'll just call Nate," he warned, smiling wolfishly.

Lucas didn't see the humor. He grabbed his arm roughly, causing Clay to spill a considerable amount of whiskey. "Don't fucking talk about my shithead brother," he snapped viciously.

Clay shook him off. "Don't be so melodramatic."

Lucas didn't back off, though. "I mean it." His blue eyes darkened considerably, piercing the nearly black atmosphere around them. "Nate is dead to me. Shut the fuck up about him."

Clay rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say."

Lucas was pissed again, which seemed to be a regular occurrence for him lately. He got up from the bar without paying, signaling the bartender that Clay was responsible. He'd ordered a lot, after all. More than he could afford, and now he was just one shot away from falling-down wasted.

Lucas was back at that nightclub where he'd first met Brooke. He could just imagine her there, teasing him about being a lightweight. He tried to push all thoughts of her out his mind; tonight was all about forgetting her.

And yet, as he scoped out the women around him, all dancing provocatively, he couldn't seem to forget the moment they'd met.

He couldn't forget her cherry rouge lips. Or her pale, perfect skin and the way it tasted on his tongue. He couldn't forget her long, lustrous brown hair and how'd he tangle his hands in it as he kissed her. He couldn't forget her perfect curves and the way his hands had pressed tightly against her body.

He felt himself getting hard just thinking about her, but when his mind went to Brooke another very particular memory came to him, and he was soon lost in it.

_"Long time, no see, brother," Nathan said in that swaggering voice of his, smiling boastfully as he tilted his chin toward Brooke. "Hey, you," he addressed her suggestively. "Don't mind this fuckhead here. He's just my brother." Nate was completely unaware of the situation._

_Luke was paralyzed between not fully understanding and not wanting to. His eyes—fierce sapphire blue—sought out Brooke's for answers. He wanted her to laugh and say that she was just there to see him. He wanted to hear her clarify that Nate's request for more condoms had absolutely nothing to do with her._

_He wanted it so badly, but as he watched her expression change into one of horrified realization everything was made painfully clear. Brooke was aghast, shocked into speechlessness._

_And if Luke thought he knew anger before that moment, then he was in for a very rude awakening._

_He backed out of the bathroom without uttering a word. He couldn't speak. His mouth felt dry, his breathing was intensified. He went into the living room and he felt like he was different person, watching as the scene unfolded with no power to stop it._

_He grabbed one of Clay's lamps and threw it against the wall, watching with satisfaction as it shattered into hundreds of irreparable pieces—kinda like his own heart, he thought bitterly._

_Brooke came running after him. "Lucas," she cried out until he stopped moving away from her._

_He stood with his back to her, immobile, furious._

_"Luke, I'm so sorry!" she screamed it at him, hoping to a power above that this was all just a nightmare. She wanted to wake up from this hell she'd found herself in and realize it was all a bad, _bad_ dream. "I didn't know," she told him almost hysterically. "If he'd told me his name, I wouldn't have..." She let the implied words hang between them._

_Now it was Nathan's turn to come barreling out of the bathroom. He didn't understand what had happened, but he was slowly putting it together._

_His mystery hookup knew his brother, and worse, she seemed to have a very intimate, very twisted and confusing relationship with him. That was really all that made sense given her reaction. "What the fuck just happened?" he demanded when he arrived in the living room._

_He looked on as Brooke screamed more apologies to Luke, becoming flushed in the process. Nathan didn't know how his night had went from meaningless sex to this upsetting fight. Was he even a part of this?_

_Luke slowly turned around to face Brooke, but as soon as he made eye contact with Nathan it was like an alarm went off in his head and he couldn't control himself. He bounded toward his brother and shoved him with as much force as his body could pack. He pushed him against the wall, no masking of his anger whatsoever._

_"What the fuck?" Nate bellowed out, shoving his brother back. "I didn't know you two knew each other."_

_Luke didn't fucking care about his excuses. It was both of their faults and he wasn't in a very forgiving mood._

_"Get the fuck out of here!" He yelled in a booming, threatening voice, not bothering to clarify who he was talking to. He wanted them both gone._

_"This is Clay's place, and he's _my_ best friend," Nathan argued, but when Lucas glared at him he knew better than to challenge his older brother in that moment. He staggered out of the apartment, slamming the door shut as he went._

_"Luke," Brooke spoke softer, more tentatively now that they were alone. She slowly raised her hand and placed it on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, and Luke couldn't help but note the sincerity in her tone._

_He watched as a single tear rolled down her cheek. As much as he wanted to wipe it away and make everything better for the girl he loved, he couldn't find the willpower to help her anymore. She'd fucked his kid brother. There'd be no coming back from that._

_He grabbed her hand and threw it back at her. "Leave," he ordered sourly. "And don't come back."_

_She nodded once and opted to listen to his request. It was the least she could do. She walked __haltingly_ to the door. With one last glance at Lucas, she stepped out into the hallway, countless stubborn tears escaping her eyes as she went.

Luke fell back into the present. He eyed a plate of lime wedges in front of him. It held such different meaning to him now that he'd met Brooke. It was no longer simple fruit. It was sexy and mouth-watering, especially when it was being fed to you by a fucking gorgeous brunette.

He circled around and spotted the corner bathroom. He didn't think he could even go back there even to take a piss without images of Brooke's bare ass on the bathroom sink rising to the forefront of his mind. He longed to be in that position again, even if it meant once again being thrown out by security.

Those were the good days of their relationship.

_There is love of course. And then there's life, its enemy,_ Lucas thought to himself, quoting the famous words of Jean Anouilh._ Appropriate,_ he mused. _Life can never just be simple if there's love in it._

Him and Brooke. There seemed to be no happy medium with them.

When they fought, they tore each other apart. They broke chairs and lamps and phones. They lied and belittled and broke up countless times. They pursued incessantly and meddled with employers. They ruined business meetings and slept with brothers. It was dangerous how awful they could be.

And yet, when they loved, they connected on levels of epic proportions. They made love and it was earth-shattering._ Epic._ They could ruin civilizations and burn cities to the ground. Their bodies ignited together and in those moments it felt like they were made for each other.

Those kinds of fiery and volatile love affairs inspired the world and redefined its concept of love. It wasn't always pretty and didn't guarantee a happily-ever-after. There would be bad days—a lot of them—but being crazy in love, no matter how torrid or messy the affair, meant that their lives were somehow worth it.

Lucas inhaled deeply, feeling his world spin around him in the wake of the potent alcohol he'd drank combined with his befuddled thoughts.

_He had a decision to make now_, he realized. _Was it worth living through the bad stuff with Brooke again if he could also have the good?_

* * *

Brooke sat on her ridiculously expensive, low-slung leather couch. She regularly collapsed on it everyday right after work for the past two weeks. She always wanted to cry now, if only to find some release from this misery she'd brought on herself. But she was Brooke Davis, and that meant that she was better than that.

Of course, she'd cried at first—_a lot—_but then she'd realized that she was also a CEO for a major clothing line and that meant she had to get over it.

She couldn't let one sour relationship get to her this much. So she'd hooked up with Lucas' little brother, effectively ruining any chance of them ever getting back together.

_What was the big deal?_ She'd ruined every relationship before that, and never felt this much regret. _What the fuck was different about Lucas Scott?_

But she knew the answer to that, of course. He'd made it obvious how different he was from other guys. When she talked, he listened. It was natural for him. He'd asked her questions with real interest. He'd taken one little anecdote from her childhood and created a grand romantic gesture from it. He wanted to know her background—good or bad. _Why hadn't she just let him in? _

She'd have to live with the regret now. Lucas deserved better than she'd offered. She just wished she could have a do-over.

She wouldn't take him for granted if she got another chance. She wouldn't snap at him for all of the little things. She'd finally open up about her past. He'd promised that he was all in right in the beginning. Now it became very clear to Brooke that she'd never done the same for him.

She scoured her memory for a moment when she'd asked him about _his_ past. Nothing came to mind. In fact, until she'd slept with Nathan, she hadn't even known Lucas had a brother. _How fucked up was that? _

She remembered Lucas saying the words: _I'm in this relationship, all the way. I want that whole exclusive, mushy, handholding love that sometimes seems impossible, and I want it with you._

Brooke felt her eyes tear up at the memory. She was so pissed at herself. It was like that old theory, you don't know what you want until its gone. She knew for certain now, and she knew she'd been wrong calling his work like that and forcing them into giving him his job back. She'd wanted to do something nice—prove to him she was as invested in their relationship.

It had backfired, obviously. She could now accept that she had overstepped her boundaries. And then her worst wrong—sleeping with his brother. She shouldn't have slept with _anyone. _She was well-aware of that fact, but that didn't change things. She'd found a random to hookup with and it had wound up being Lucas' brother. It served her right for inviting Clay to that party.

Her iPhone started buzzing. She lazily looked at the bright screen to check for the caller. It read _Sexy Bestie. _Brooke smiled lightly, pressing the answer button. "Hey, Sexy," she spoke into the phone.

"Hey yourself," Rachel spoke back. "How's New York?"

Brooke bit her lip, weighing the options of telling her or just keeping her relationship status to herself. "It's great," she lied uneasily.

"_Right,"_ Rachel drawled. "Hope you haven't been getting into too much trouble with me gone."

Brooke tried to stay present in the conversation. "Just the right amount."

"Hmmm. Maybe we should change that," Rachel responded coyly. There was scratching on the line.

Before Brooke could ask what she meant by that, she got her answer.

Her elevator door opened then, revealing a tall, stunning redhead with a not-to-be-ignored attitude. "Slut," the girl chanted excitedly, dropping a suitcase to the floor. She wore a denim mini-skirt and a low-cut Marc Jacobs sweater that would have looked tacky on anyone else.

Brooke lazily stood up, not bothering to hide her surprise at seeing her best friend's unexpected and characteristically loud arrival. "Bitch," she teased back, although with little enthusiasm.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Whore," she finished, pulling Brooke into a bone-crushing hug before noticing Brooke's eyes—swollen and mascara-stained. "What's wrong?"

Brooke pursed her lips, shrugging. "Work's been pretty tough. I'm just exhausted. Hey, I didn't even know you were in town," she worked to change the topic, chastising her best friend.

"You're lying," Rachel accused, not having any of it. When Brooke didn't defend herself, she went on, "Was it that Lucas guy? Did he hurt you? I'll kick his well-muscled ass."

Brooke shook her head. "It was my fault. I fucked up, Rae. And I don't think I can fix it."

Rachel brought her in for another comforting hug. "We'll see about that."

* * *

_Fucking hell._

Lucas' head was pounding. His mouth was sickeningly dry. His eyes felt welded shut. And his stomach was growling hungrily like it'd been days since his last meal.

_What the fuck did I do last night_, he wondered. He slowly peeled open his eyes to discover he actually had managed to make it back to his own bed before passing out. He looked up and found Clay once again leaning against his doorframe, smiling arrogantly down at him.

"What the fuck do you want?" he snapped at his roommate.

Clay pretended to be wounded for a moment. "To _help_," he explained, sounding only slightly sarcastic.

Lucas glared. "You can help me by getting rid of this fucking headache." He squinted his eyes shut again.

Clay made an annoyed noise before setting something down—a glass, maybe—on Lucas' bedside table. He coughed loudly until Lucas opened his eyes again.

A dark, ugly green-colored smoothie was in front of him, looking all kinds of disgusting and smelling even worse. Luke held his breath, gagging a little. "What the fuck is that?"

Clay snickered. "_That_ is the best hangover cure in all of Manhattan." He stuck in a straw. "Drink up, Scottie. I guarantee you'll feel worlds better."

"Fuck it," Luke muttered. But for once he did what he was told and was actually thankful for it. The smoothie was better tasting than expected. He still didn't want to know what was in it, but it cooled him down and relieved his headache and most of his other symptoms to the point where his mood improved as well. "Thanks," he grunted eventually.

"So what exactly happened with Brooke?" Clay ignored the sudden gratitude, getting straight to the point. He leaned against Lucas' bookcase, impatiently waiting to get the inside scoop of the train wreck that was the Davis-Scott relationship. "No one gets that wasted unless they're trying to forget something."

Lucas took a slow, pointed breath. He felt angry still _and_ nauseous at the reminder. "I don't know," he finally blurted out. "We met and hooked up. I tracked her down again a month later. You know all of that. We had some problems at first."

"She was embarrassed by you," Clay happily added.

Luke glared again, but nodded. "But we worked it out after every fight. I think I even could have gotten past her whole interfering with my work debacle, but she dumped me before I had the chance."

"And then Nathan came into the picture?"

Luke groaned. "Yeah. My fucking little brother. I just can't believe that Brooke would do something like that. You know, I bet she knew we were related. She probably wanted to find the best way to hurt me."

"Or she wanted to compare you two," Clay interjected unhelpfully, not quite ready to admit he'd dragged the youngest Scott brother to that party in the first place.

Luke considered punching him. _He really had to work on his anger management_, he realized.

Clay held his hands up in surrender. "Relax. Let me lay down a little advice on you, Scottie."

Luke eyed him dubiously. "What'd you got, sensei?"

"When we fall in love that first time, we're not really in love with the girl," Clay started.

"I wasn't in love with—" He stopped when he noticed Clay's expression. They both knew he was lying.

"We're in love with the idea of it all," Clay wisely continued. "We're in love with being in love. We've got no idea what the girl is really about—or what she's capable of, hence the casual screwing. We're just in love with the idea of her, you know? We love who we become around her. So basically, we're out of our fucking minds."

Now_ that_ was the Clay he knew. No more of that profound, philosophical bullshit.

"What do you suggest then?" Luke asked.

Clay grinned, and suddenly Lucas wasn't so sure he wanted his advice.

* * *

The night had been a long one, complete with a bottle of Ketel and a heartfelt rant provided by Brooke. Rachel had listened attentively, every so often interjecting with her personal comments and opinions of an event. It was the perfect kind of therapy for Brooke and continued into the following day.

Rachel had managed to convince Brooke to leave her apartment for a special girls-only outing. They were at a small, low key café in the heart of Brooklyn. They'd each ordered a trifásico—a delicious Spanish coffee drink spiked with rum.

Brooke was sipping hers slowly, savoring its deliciousness. Even with her best friend's sudden return to her life, she still couldn't help but fixate on her relationship with Luke. She was analyzing it over and over again, willing it to change each time.

"Brooke," Rachel cut into her reverie. "You okay?"

Brooke tried to smile, but the usual cheeriness of it fell flat. "Fine," she whispered.

"No, you're not," Rachel disagreed. She always knew what her dark-haired friend was really thinking. It was a gift—a sixth sense. "You actually love this boy, don't you?" She shook her head, smiling a little motherly. "Who'd have thought that would happen to the infamous Brooke Davis?"

Brooke's eyes welled up. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Ah, honey." Rachel brought her in for a hug in their booth. "Look, I came back to town to help you get over whatever funk you were in. Your last email was beyond sad, but you just lost the only boy you've ever loved. I thought you were just bored, but this is much more serious. Broken hearts are never easy to mend."

Brooke let a tear fall down her cheek. "What do you suggest I do?"

Rachel didn't give it a second thought. "Go get the bastard back."

* * *

**A/N: So I thought I'd throw ya'll a bone with adding Rachel. I hope she didn't disappoint. Rest assured, she'll be around for awhile now and you'll find out about Nate's whereabouts in a couple chapters. Also, don't lose the faith in Brucas. Here's a little sneak peak for next chapter: **

**Brooke smiled involuntarily. "I'm done with the quarter life crises." She shoveled past him, standing up on tiptoes to blow hot breath against his neck as she spoke. "I'm the life of the party again, Luke, and don't you forget it."**

**Also, spoiler alert, next chapter will feature a masquerade. :) REVIEW! Also, thanks for making me hit the hundred mark! Love you guys!**


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